


We'll Do Something New

by Icka M Chif (mischif)



Category: Green Eggs and Ham (Cartoon)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischif/pseuds/Icka%20M%20Chif
Summary: Life continues after Meepville. Guy fixes things, E.B. learns to pick locks, Sam talks, Michellee paints, Home is built, Family is found, and nearly everyone gets covered in flemur fur.-Not necessarily in that order.Warning: Post-season one fic, spoilers, and isn't going to make much sense unless you've seen the series.
Relationships: Guy Am I & Michellee (Green Eggs and Ham), Guy Am I & Sam I Am (Green Eggs and Ham), Guy Am I/Michellee (Green Eggs and Ham), Guy Am I/Sam I Am (Green Eggs and Ham)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit as of 1 Feb 2020: Did some edits on the fic, cleaning up typos, and based on feedback, divided it up into three chapters for easier reading. No new additional scenes.

“I don’t mean this the wrong way but…” Guy clears his throat, sounding clearly awkward. “Is ‘Sam’ your real name? Or should I be calling you something else?” 

Michellee opens her eyes just a crack from where she’s leaning against the train wall on their way home to Glurfsburg. E.B. is a warm weight on her lap, and Michellee herself mostly asleep, which is probably the reason Guy chose now to speak.

Sam’s quiet, looking down at the floor, his hands clasped together in a way that seems nearly unnaturally subdued for their ever smiling friend. 

“No, that…. that’s a fair question.” Sam murmurs, not looking at Guy. He’s painted in moonlight, his golden fur bleached silver. “And yes. That’s me. Sam-I-Am is who I am.” 

Guy smiles, and it’s a warm, kind expression. A little rusty from disuse, but it’s his smile that made Michellee first look at him as someone other than an annoyance, and her heart gives a little flutter to see it. He holds his hand out to Sam, as if introducing themselves for the first time. “Pleased to meet you, Sam-I-Am.” 

To her surprise, Sam looks almost _devastated_ at the offering. He curls into a ball, hands gripping the brim of his hat, pulling it over his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his voice rough. 

Guy looks as confused as Michellee feels. “Sam?”

"I didn't even think... You couldn't be sure of that, could you?" Sam's voice breaks slightly. "After you found out."

Guy nods slowly, glancing away as he lets out an heavy sounding sigh.

“I wanted just everything to be happy and back the way it was, so I ignored the part where I _lied_ to you." Sam’s voice is soft and stricken. “Then I gave you a hard time about not trusting me, and I left you in jail, with no way to get out.” 

This is not a story Michellee has heard, and it’s more than a bit alarming. She wants answers, and it’s almost enough to make her demand them. But E.B.’s asleep and she doesn’t want to roust her daughter. 

“Hey, no. Sam.” Guy waves his hands, trying to soothe his friend. “You gave me the collector's name. They let me go once I told them that. Your visit was my ticket to freedom.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you got arrested because of me.” Sam shakes his head. “Twice. You’re a good person, Guy. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Guy sighs, adjusting his hat on his head as he thinks for a minute. “We both did and said some things we’re not proud of.” He finally rumbles. “Which just means we know not to do that, and we can be better, going forward.” 

Sam’s eyes go wide and luminous, turning to stare up at Guy in shock. 

“Forgive me?” Guy asks, a small hopeful smile on his face. 

“Forgiven.” Sam breathes, staring at Guy like he just offered Sam the moon. “Forgive me?” 

Guy’s grin turns crooked and fond. “Already done.” 

“Oh.” Sam hesitates a moment more, his chest heaving like he’s trying not to cry, then he launches himself at Guy. He twines his thin arms around Guy’s neck and, hiding his face against the longer fur of his ruff, muffling the sad noises he makes. Guy doesn’t say anything, just cradles his friend, his head dropping low to hide a sad smile. 

Michellee closes her eyes and is nearly asleep when she hears them again. “You’re fine where you are.” Guy says, his rumbling voice gruff. She peeks again, to find Sam looking at Guy with an awed expression, one arm pulled away as if to leave. Guy is glancing away, expression fierce and defiant. 

“Oh.” Sam breathes, not saying anything for a long moment. Then he sinks back down again, putting his head on Guy’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his friend again without a word. 

Guy shifts, moving over until he can rest against the wall of the train and the back of the seat to support himself. He adjusts Sam so he’s cradling him more comfortably, then closes his eyes and seems to drop off to sleep. 

Michellee watches them for a moment more, then closes her eyes and drifts off as well. 

When she gets home and settles E.B. in for the night, she pulls out a sketchpad she had tucked away in the back of the closet. She grabs a pencil, sketching Guy and Sam with loose rough strokes, the pair holding onto each other in the moonlight as Sam cried. She takes a little liberty with the light and shading, turning it slightly dreamlike. Blurred by the softness of the moon at night. 

It’s a memory she wants to keep.

* * *

It’s a memory that helps ground her when she wakes up at 2am in the morning, visions of all the ways that _jumping across cold air balloons 71 stories in the air_ could have gone wrong. 

Sam slipped, once. Guy caught him, but if he hadn’t… 

She shivers, cold sweat down her back and arms. What they had done was **incredibly** dangerous and reckless. They could have all died. 

They didn’t, and she’s got proof in the form of a sketch and a memory of them riding home on the train. She gets up and checks on E.B., listening to her daughter breathe for several minutes, letting the noise wash over her like a balm before going back to bed. 

They could have all died. They didn’t.

* * *

When she wakes up in the morning, it’s with a jolt to E.B.’s delighted and distinctly loud cheer, and an equally loud and delighted non-E.B. response. 

Michellee’s out of bed in a heartbeat, rushing to the door to find Guy and Sam there. Sam’s arms full of grocery bags as E.B. gleefully invites him in. “Morning, _Mademoiselle_!” Sam beams broadly at Michellee. “We brought breakfast!” 

“Oh.” She murmurs as E.B. and Sam run by her without any further input, E.B. announcing that she’ll show Sam where everything is, a wide smile on her face, her hair a wrinkled mess. 

Michellee turns and looks at Guy, who is standing on the doorstep, looking uncertain. “Is this okay?” He asks, not quite wringing his hands. 

The Michellee of a few days ago, the one before they left for Meepville, would have demanded that he and Sam leave and shut the door behind him. And she knows, she _knows_ now, that if she says no, Guy would wrangle Sam and apologise in the face of E.B.’s disappointment, and leave. He might be back later, but he would leave. 

But she doesn’t want them to go. She remembers her dreams of last night and resists the urge to make sure that he’s real. 

“Yes! Of course. Come in, come in.” She pulls him in, his arm solid to her touch, then glances out around the street. Inviting two strange men into her house this early in the morning, her neighbours are going to _talk_.

That would have made her panic a few days ago, she’d worked hard for what scraps of respectability she has. Now the thought makes her feel defiant. 

It’ll give them something to talk about, other her already ruined reputation for being a single working mother. She shuts the door and smiles at Guy, who gives her a sweet smile back. It’s not very big, but there’s a lot of soft emotion in it and she kind of melts a little bit. 

“Sam wanted to make breakfast for the two of you, as a thanks for paying for our train trip back.” Guy explains as they walk towards the kitchen. “I also made sure we got the ingredients to purple pancakes, so it’s not all meat.” 

So she could have something to eat as well. “Thank you.” Michellee tries not to blush, her hand reaching up to touch her hair. Which she belatedly realises is unconfined, curls flaying every which way. 

Just as self-consciousness starts to creep in, Guy speaks up. “You look beautiful.” He says in a rough voice, radiating sincerity. “Your hair is gorgeous.” 

He quickly retreats into the kitchen, voice rumbling as he demands an equal measure of counter-space, and she feels a little lightheaded and giddy. She’s rumpled and wrinkly from sleeping, hasn’t even brushed her teeth or her face and he’s telling her she’s beautiful. She hasn’t felt this twitterpated since…. 

Well. Ever. 

She and her husband had fallen together with intense emotions and passion. A passion that had stayed until his unexpected death. They hadn’t done this soft, gentle flirtation. 

But comparing Guy to her husband is like comparing chalk and cheese. 

She doesn’t think she could withstand another fiery bonfire of emotions like that again. She’s changed too much, that’s not who she is anymore. Guy’s quiet stalwartness is endearing, and she thinks she could easily love him. 

It’s still early though, both in their relationship and in the hours, so she leaves the kitchen to the other three and goes to take a shower to get the day started.

* * *

When she comes back, there’s tea waiting for her, served with a little shy smile on Guy’s face as he wrangles the other two into some semblance of order and she mentally re-writes the ‘could fall in love’ as ‘is’.

* * *

Guy and Sam come back the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that they no longer worrying about knocking before entering. Company at breakfast is suddenly a normal thing. 

It’s… actually a bit of an unexpected relief. Her morning routine can be slow now, almost leisurely. E.B. used to be reluctant to wake up and face the day, dragging her feet in a way that drove Michellee crazy. Now she’s happy and eager, looking forward to the new day in a way that kind of breaks Michellee’s heart, the realisation of how much she was stifling her daughter. 

Sam and Guy also keep her daughter on track, making sure she’s dressed and hair brushed before she can help in the kitchen, which is Sam slowly teaching E.B. how to cook green eggs and ham. They won’t let her at the stove by herself, not yet, but E.B.’s eager to learn. 

Breakfast is firmly Sam’s domain, and she is happy to surrender it to him. It’s usually Green Eggs and Ham, cooked with love, although Guy makes sure there’s other things that she can eat, like bread and fruit. When she wanders into the kitchen, being able to relax and not worry about getting E.B. up and clothed, there is tea, smiles, and happy excited conversation. It’s still a rush to get ready after breakfast, but it’s not an unhappy one, more a reluctance to part company. 

Michellee goes to work, and everything is almost the exact same as it was when she left it. News of Snerz being arrested for theft and animal trafficking is on everyone’s lips, but no one knows anything more than what is in the newspaper. She’s not in it, neither is E.B., Sam, or Guy. 

She interacts with her coworkers so infrequently that Jim… or maybe it’s Tim? The young man on her left who hands her the beans to count during a meeting and occasionally asks about how E.B.’s doing, and lady in the cafeteria are the only ones who ask how things in Meepville went. 

No one seems to make the connection between her being in the city and the fall of Snerz, and it’s more than a little relief. SnerZco is the largest employer around and to find another job would be difficult. 

After work, she comes home to find Guy in her kitchen, making dinner while E.B. plays outside and Sam trying to con a laughing Mrs. McGrisses out of cookies. Guy has lived on his own long enough that he knows the basics of cooking, but only a handful of recipes. 

What he makes isn’t fancy, tending towards a little bland but filling. Bland is easy enough to fix, especially with E.B. and Sam willing to try just about anything and everything, and her spice rack has never seen so much use. 

It’s nice, to have time to talk with an adult over non-work related things as Michellee watches Sam and E.B. chase each other around in circles. E.B.’s eyebrows are usually in a wind swept mess these days, her face full of delight and whimsy. Her daughter, she is proud to discover, is smart, gregarious, and adventurous. 

She also feels better knowing E.B. has people who not only adore her, but can watch out for her and keep her out of trouble now. Or at the least, get help if needed.

E.B. has latched on to becoming a Wildlife Protector for real, and the subject of animals all of them have seen or would like to see comes up frequently. Sam refuses to go to the Zoo, citing bad memories, and she’s happy to ignore that part for the moment. 

Over the dinner table that used to be so quiet and strained with only monotone monosyllabic answers, is now laughter, chatter, and joy. Occasionally she’ll catch Guy’s eye, and the two of them will share a look, both silently wondering how they got to be as lucky as they are. 

Sometimes she wonders how long this peace can stay, and then brushes the thought away as if just thinking it can summon trouble.

* * *

Not even a week, just long enough to fall into a routine, is the answer. Gluntz suddenly appears, her voice echoing through the house as E.B. answers the door. 

Her daughter isn’t stupid. She doesn’t invite the BAD GUY inside. Gluntz doesn’t seem to notice as Guy gives Michellee a nervous look, and does not look back into the kitchen where Sam is. 

“-So anyway.” Gluntz says, interrupting her own monologue on how lovely the wallpaper in Michellee’s house is. “I’m here to speak with Sam-I-Am.”

There’s nothing she can read on Gluntz’s expression to say if it’s a good thing or a bad. The last she’d seen of any of the BAD GUYS was McWinkle putting his hat on Gluntz’s head as they walked off, McWinkle wrapping up his one last case.

It makes her wonder if this is somehow a trap. 

Guy presses his lips together, his mouth pinching into a dark scowl that would put the Grinch of Michellee’s hometown’s to shame. It’s a look that she hasn’t seen since their first acquaintance, and is nearly a shock to see. He looks like he’s about to say something, when Sam steps out into the living room. Sam looks up at Guy and shakes his head, motioning for Guy to back down.

Guy does not, but he stays silent. 

“I’m here.” Sam says calmly, walking towards Gluntz. E.B. lets out a noise of distress as Sam stops in front of the Animal Protection agent and holds his hands out, palms up in offering. 

It takes a moment for Michellee to realise Sam’s offering himself up to be put in _handcuffs_. 

“What? No! Pfft.” Gluntz scoffs, pushing her too large cowboy hat towards the back of her head. “I said I was here to **talk**. I’m not here to _arrest_ you.”

Sam gapes, eyes wide for a moment, and then he drops his arms. “... Oh.” He says, at a loss. 

Gluntz ignores his confusion, looking around at all of them. “May I come in?” 

“Of course.” Michellee gets to her feet, looking at her daughter, who looks on the verge of a temper tantrum if Gluntz makes a single wrong move towards Sam. “E.B., could you go put the kettle on for us?” 

E.B. looks stubborn for a moment, jaw and mouth tense. Then she nods and stomps towards the kitchen, giving them all a furious warning glare. 

Gluntz nods as if E.B.’s reaction is perfectly understandable --which it is, but it’s still impolite and they _will_ have words about how guests are to be treated later--, and bounces inside. 

Sam backs up to give Gluntz room, then shuts the door behind her. Gluntz beams at him, then clears her throat, taking on a serious air, as she pulls out a small sheaf of paper with a large official looking seal on it. “Sam-I-Am.” She reads out loud in a somewhat grave tone of voice. “In light of recent events, the BAD GUYS are willing to grant clemency and drop any and all charges against you. Wipe the slate clean, as it were.”

She can practically _feel_ the hope rise in Guy. Sam doesn’t seem to share it, giving Gluntz a skeptical look. “What’s the catch?” He asks, and the cold detachment in his voice is so different from the Sam she knows that it makes her breath stick in her throat for a moment. 

“You tells us _everything_.” Gluntz states firmly, looking at Sam with a serious expression that seems strange on her face. “Anything and everything you know about illegal wildlife trafficking. Names. Dates. Trade routes. Evidence. **Everything**.” 

She didn’t think it was possible for Sam’s white face to go any paler, but it somehow does. Sam’s gaze flickers over towards them, over at _Guy_ , who looks like he’s ready to throw hands to protect Sam if he needs to. Sam licks his lips and swallows nervously, then nods, looking up at Gluntz. “You got a deal.” Sam agrees, his voice small but resolute.

“You made the right choice.” Gluntz informs him, putting the papers away, and pulling her glasses out, clearly intending to leave immediately with Sam. “McWinkle went to a lot of effort to get this deal for you. Seemed to think you’d ended up in the wrong business.” 

The corner of Sam’s mouth curls up, like a smile but not. “Pass on my thanks if you would.”

Gluntz scoffs. “‘Course.” She waves it off, as if that were a by-gone conclusion.

Guy steps forward. “I’m coming with.” He says firmly. 

“No!” Panic flashes across Sam’s face. Guy falters, just for a moment as Sam wrings his hands, shoulders curling in, making him look very small. “I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, It’s very sweet, but I don’t…” His voice cuts off for a moment, and when he speaks again, it’s in a tiny broken voice. “I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Guy huffs, a fond, reassuring smile crossing his face. “I thought we’d gotten past that.” He comments, and it’s a story that Michellee hasn’t heard yet. Guy steps closer and kneels down next to Sam, putting a hand on his tiny shoulders. “Tell you what. I’ll come with for moral support. If there’s anything you can’t say in front of me, I’ll leave the room. But you’re my family, and I want to be there for you.” 

Sam’s mouth moves silently for a moment, then he nods, so quickly his hat nearly flies off before he launches himself at Guy, burying his face against Guy’s ruff. “Okay.” Sam whispers as Guy puts a hand on his back, palm covering Sam from shoulder to shoulder. “I could probably use the backup.” 

“Any time.” Guy assures his best friend. Michellee looks over at Gluntz, who has an awkward look on her face, like she’s trying to maintain her stoic law-enforcement face, but wants to melt into a pile of goo at the sheer amount of affection between the two men. 

Sam and Guy’s relationship is an unusual one, to say the least. Sometimes she’d swear they’re siblings, other times dating. She’d almost be jealous except she’s pretty sure they’re not, if only because she and Guy are… something. Something not quite defined yet. 

Guy looks at her as Sam lets him go, rising to his feet. “I’ll let you know when we get back.” He promises her, his expression resolute. 

Michellee nods, trying to look encouraging even though she feels tense. “I’ll bring them both back, ma’am.” Gluntz assures her, then turns and nods towards the kitchen, where E.B. is holding the tea kettle like it’s a weapon she’s about to throw. “Miss.” 

“E.B..” Michellee snaps, sending her daughter back into the kitchen as Gluntz lets herself out, Sam following silently behind. Guy gives her a last amused look, then leaves as well, shutting the door behind them.

E.B.’s out of the kitchen and at the window that overlooks the street in a flash, watching them go. Michellee joins her, watching Guy climb into the back seat of a dark sedan after Sam. Gluntz climbs in the front, chattering something at them with a cheerful look on her face before starting the car and driving off. 

“They’ll be back.” E.B. states, and Michellee can’t tell if it’s a question or a promise. 

Michellee smiles, resting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Of course.” She agrees, but she’s not entirely sure either.

* * *

She can’t tear E.B. away from the front window, her daughter waiting for Guy and Sam to come back. The house is empty, quiet without them there. With E.B. staying in one spot, it reminds her of before, before Sam and Guy came into their lives. 

Peace and quiet. Everything nice and tidy. Stable. Just the way she wanted it. 

It’s driving her up the wall. 

Michellee prowls the house for a little while, then climbs into the attic, pulling out the art supplies she stashed away what feels like another lifetime ago. She’d packed them without thinking when leaving Meepsville, and she’d been dismayed to find them when unpacking in Glurfsburg. She’d hidden them away so she didn’t have to think about painting. 

Thank goodness for that now. 

There’s two large canvases, thankfully still in usable shape, although a fresh coat of primer probably wouldn’t hurt. However, her oil paints have separated, drying out into pigment with a few sticky splotches of linseed oil and she grimaces. They’re pretty much useless now. “I’m going out.” She announces, coming back down stairs and grabbing her purse. “Do you want to come with?” 

“No, thanks.” E.B. says flatly from the window, everything in posture saying she’s not moving. 

“Alright.” Michellee kisses E.B.’s forehead. “I’ll be back shortly, it’s just a quick errand. If you need anything-”

“-Ask Mrs. McGrisses next door.” E.B. deadpans without taking her eyes off the street. They don’t mention that this is the first time she’s ever left E.B. by herself in the house, and Michellee almost hesitates over that, but she doubts her daughter is going to be moving from her seat. 

Michellee strokes E.B.’s head, worried about her daughter. About what would happen when Guy and Sam came back. 

For someone who has restructured her life for security and stability, it’s a bit of a shock to realise that Michellee doesn’t want that anymore. She wants Sam’s excited chatter as he cooks and rambles about everything and nothing. She wants quiet times with Guy, both of them reading side by side, happy not to say a word. She wants Guy helping E.B. get her fishing pole to work before she and Sam go off on some minor adventure that may or may not involve their neighbours pandog. 

She wants them all four of them together, and it seems almost ridiculous that they don’t actually all live under the same roof, Sam and Guy leaving every night to sleep at Sam’s place. 

It’s only been a little while having them there, not even three weeks since she first met Guy with his dangerous flying invention, but she can’t fathom not having them as part of her and E.B.’s life. 

Dammit all, she’s keeping them both. It’s not what she’s planned for her life, but she didn’t care. They were hers now. 

She makes it to the art supply store in better time than she’d thought, nervous energy running through her. It takes a moment to find the paints and she goes to the oils without thinking. 

It’s not until the familiar smell of turpentine hits her nose that she realises that this won’t work. When she’d painted before, it was in a large studio, with lots of air, and big windows to bring the wind through. She has a smaller house now, with an energetic pre-teen, an inventor whose inventions blow up, and a Sam. 

Oils have a low burn point, and turpentine is worse. And then there's the fumes, and any potential accidents and smearing of paints. 

Not to mention the memories it brings back, days and nights spent painting, chatting with her husband. Watching him as he worked. Which sometimes lead to the two of them rolling around the studio, covered in paint. She’s pretty sure one of those times is how they got E.B., too distracted and caught up to take the usual precautions.

Maybe this too, was time for a change. 

She picks up acrylic paints instead, which don’t require a solvent to clean, and takes them up to the register. They’re cheaper too, and she buys small tubs of four colours instead of tiny tubes, as well as a few new brushes. 

After this many years, she’s going to have some stuff to relearn, a new medium won’t hinder her any more than time has. 

She comes home to find E.B. still sitting by the window, looking like a statue. “Anything?” Michellee asks. 

“Nothing.” E.B. mutters. Michellee hums, kissing her daughter's head again, then wanders into her office, mentally listing which sheets she can sacrifice as drop cloths, and sets her supplies up. 

She draws a rough outline of what’s in her head on the canvas, then, for the first time in years, she picks up a paintbrush, and begins to paint.

* * *

Guy calls after dark, just before E.B.’s usual bedtime. “This is going to take a day or two more.” He rumbles, sounding exhausted from where Michellee and E.B. have the phone tucked between them so they can both hear. “We’ll be back at the station first thing in the morning.”

“Can I talk to Sam?” E.B. asks, her voice sharp and urgent. 

There’s silence on the phone for a moment, then Guy speaks up again. “I think he’s run out of words for the day.” He says gently, with more care than his surly appearance would bely. 

He doesn’t say that Sam is worn out, mentally and emotionally, but he doesn't need to either. 

“I can pass on a message though.” Guy quickly assures them as E.B. makes a worried whine in the back of her throat.

“Tell him that we love him. And we look forward to seeing him soon.” E.B. blurts frantically. “And that he still hasn’t taught me how to make Green Eggs and Ham properly.” 

Guy huffs in amusement. “I’ll tell him.” He promises.

“Good.” E.B. says resolutely, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “Tell him goodnight for me too, please.”

“Will do.” Guy agrees, his voice soothing. “You get some sleep too, no staying up all night worrying. We’re alright.” 

“Okay.” E.B. agrees. “Good night, Guy.”

“Night, kiddo.” 

E.B. nods once, then lets go of the phone, walking into her room. “She went to bed.” Michellee says quietly, fingers tangling with the phone cord.

Guy sighs heavily. “I’m sorry.” He says, voice low. “I don’t… We didn’t…” The words trail off into awkward silence. 

She doesn’t know what to say to Guy’s broken words, her teeth digging into her lower lip.

“Are we allowed back?” Guy finally blurts, then makes a sound in the back of his throat like he’d like to physically shove the words back in his mouth. 

“Of course.” Michellee doesn’t need to think about it. They’re hooligans, but they’re her hooligans now, and they need someone with a lick of common sense to keep them out of trouble. 

Guy lets out a weighty breath. “Thank you.” He says heavily, a great deal of weight to his words.

Her heart picks up, images of if she’d said no flashing through her mind. Never having their company again. No more shared meals. No more happy conversations. No more shared looks with Guy. Just silence, and E.B.’s surly company as they both wondered where the other two were. 

The thought of never seeing them hurts her heart. 

“I missed your cooking tonight.” She leans against the wall, stretching the phone cord nervously with one hand. “I’ve gotten spoiled, not having to cook dinner lately.” 

He chuckles, the low sound making her feel giddy. “You’ll have to tell me your favourite recipes sometime and I can try to make them.” 

“I can show you.” She offers, belatedly realising her words came out as kind of flirty. Kind of awkwardly flirty, it’s been years since she’s done it, but it’s… nice. Kind of fluttery feeling. “We could do it together-?” 

“I’d like that.” Guy rumbles, and she can feel the smile in his voice at the promise of a future meal together. 

“Alright. Later then.” She promises, and he hums in agreement. 

They lapse into silence, but it’s not awkward. She’s not trying to think of anything to say, any witty responses, just happy to have this moment with him. 

The sound of a clock chiming pulls her out of her revelry. “Oh.”

“I should… Let you go.” Guy says reluctantly. 

“Yeah, I should tuck E.B. in.” She touches her hair, wishing they could spend a little longer like that. But it’s not really logical, on the phone together and not saying anything. “Good night, Guy. Pleasant Dreams.”

“You too.” 

A pause follows, like there’s something more that should be said, but neither of them speak. Unsaid words hovering in the air between them. 

Then there’s a click, and then the line goes dead. Michellee takes a deep breath before hanging up the phone and leaning against the wall for a moment to catch her breath.

And then she squares her shoulders and goes to tuck her daughter in for the night.

* * *

“Where’s that handsome fellow of yours?” Mrs. McGrisses waves from her yard at Michellee as she’s returning home from a long day of work, a playful leer in the old lady’s voice. “The one with the cute son? Such a polite, nice boy.” 

It takes a moment to realise that Mrs. McGrisses is referring to Guy and Sam, and Sam as Guy’s son. Whether Mrs. Mcgrisses is referring to Guy or Sam as the polite, nice one, Michellee isn’t sure, but decides to take it as the compliment that it’s meant to be. 

“Family business.” She smiles through her teeth.

“Awww.” Mrs. McGrisses pouts. “Keep hold of that one, sweetie. You’re not getting any younger!”

“Thank you, Mrs. McGrisses.” Michellee nods firmly, then quickly walks inside her house and firmly shuts the door behind her. Mrs. McGuinness was one of the few neighbours willing to talk to Michellee when she first moved in, and the only one she trusts to watch E.B. on a regular basis, but still. “Not getting younger my foot.” She mutters darkly. 

“I think she’s happy for you.” E.B. comments, looking out the window. It’s the same place Michellee last saw her daughter when she left for work that morning. She’d been a little nervous leaving her daughter alone all day, but she had a feeling E.B. wouldn’t be doing much today. “Still rude though. She’s not getting any younger either. No one is. Except for maybe the time-travelling cockroach.” 

“Someone’s existential today.” Michellee muses, pushing her jar of beans next to the sofa. “Any word from Guy or Sam yet?”

“No.” E.B. shakes her head. “Someone did call to ask if we wanted a crank. I said ‘no’.” 

“Thank you.” Michellee sighs, plopping down in her chair and leaning back. She should get up and start making dinner for the two of them. And she will. In just a moment. She’s been exhausted, distracted, and fuzzy-wumpled all day. 

E.B. doesn’t move from her seat, watching out the window. “Are Sam and Guy coming back?” She asks quietly, as if bracing herself for the answer. 

“Of course they are, sweetie.” Michellee assures her. “Once they finish talking with the BAD GUYS.”

“Yeah, but…” E.B. trails off, clearly weighing something. “Will you let them back in the house?” She whispers so softly Michellee has to strain to hear her. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asks, confused. Guy asked much the same thing the night prior. 

“You didn’t want to let them in the cabin, when it was pouring rain and cold outside, with the wild creatures that would have chewed them like gum.” E.B. says, her voice flat, then begins to pick up speed and vitriol. “You left Guy in the desert when he was stranded there. You shouted at Mr. Jenkins on the train, and at Guy when he showed up at SnerZco, even though it was obvious he didn’t have anything to do with the animals being trapped. On the Ship you-”

“I get it.” Michellee snaps, cutting E.B. off. 

“It’d just be… very convenient for you if they didn’t come back at all.” E.B. mutters quietly, as if this something she’s given a lot of thought and not like the taste of it. “Wouldn’t it, Mom? Everything could go back to ‘ _normal_ ’.” 

She looks over at E.B., the words to demand E.B. go to her room on her tongue, and she bites them back at the look on her daughter’s face. E.B.’s staring back with a defiant look, anger sparking in her eyes, clearly bracing herself for Michellee’s reaction. To be _hurt_ by Michellee’s reaction.

She sees herself as a child, wanting the freedom to paint and create her own things, not just backgrounds and props for other people, and wonders when she became her own mother, quick to judge and destroy the things she doesn’t understand. 

‘No talking to Bohemians, Thrill-Seekers, or Strangers’ was a line straight from her Mother’s own mouth. Michellee left Whoville as soon as she was able, moving to the big city and marrying the first bohemian thrill-seeking stranger she’d met shortly after, partly to spite her Mother. 

She’d lost him quickly too. Too quickly. 

Michellee doesn’t want the same thing to happen with E.B. She’s not going to repeat her own mother’s mistakes. Sh'es not.

And bless it all, E.B.’s _right_ and she doesn’t want E.B. to be right because it makes her sound like a horrible person. 

Michellee doesn’t want to **be** that person. 

“Guy asked me the same thing last night.” Michellee says quietly. “I told him they were welcome back, and then we talked about dinners to make. That I’d show him a couple of my favourite recipes, and we’d make them together.” 

If this trip back to Meepville has taught her anything, it’s that her daughter is her own person and is more than capable of standing on her own. And the tighter Michellee holds on to E.B., the farther E.B. slips away. 

She’d thought she was doing what was right, to keep both her and E.B. safe, except all it did was hurt E.B. And Guy, and Sam. 

And Michellee herself. 

The best thing she can offer E.B. is some freedom and a chance to grow into herself. It’s not easy, but to keep from repeating the mistakes her mother made, Michellee’s willing to try. 

E.B. swallows and nods, before reaching up at wiping at her eyes. “I miss them.” She whispers, voice cracking. 

“Oh, honey.” Michellee breathes, her heart breaking. “So do I.”

Her daughter stumbles away from the window where she’s been watching, nearly falling into Michellee’s lap. Michellee picks her up, pulling her into the chair with her. E.B. goes willingly, resting her head on Michellee’s shoulder. 

“I don’t pretend to understand why Sam did the things he did.” Michellee confesses. “But I know that he and Guy were trying to do their best with Mr. Jenkins, and get him home safely. And for that, I don’t think they were bad people at all.” 

Sam honestly confuses her. He’s friendly, polite, and charming. Always willing to help, with a kind word and a smile hovering around his lips. 

And yet, he’s a thief. Was a thief. Wanted by the law. 

She cannot get the dichotomy to match up in her head. It’s frustrating, it’s annoying, and it’s just who Sam is. 

But Sam is E.B.’s and Guy’s close friend. And she’s grown fond of him as well. For that, she’s willing to give him a chance.

* * *

Guy calls again that evening, they’re done for the day and they’ll be back at the station tomorrow. 

E.B. goes to bed early. Michellee paints until the colours blur together and look like flames instead of feathers and flowers, then falls into bed herself.

* * *

Michellee wakes up to the smell of tea, and something cooking on the stove top. Footsteps stampede down the hallway, a wordless shriek of joy coming from E.B.

She quickly follows, finding Guy standing at the stove, large spoon in his hand as E.B. eagerly explores the kitchen. “Where’s Sam?” E.B. demands, looking around. 

“At the Station.” Guy looks apologetic. His gaze flickers up towards Michellee as he shrugs a shoulder. “I think they’re wrapping everything up today, there’s a lot of paperwork that he needs to sign that he said didn’t need to stick around for. He should be back tonight.” 

“Oh.” E.B.’s expression falls for a moment, then brightens. “Really? Promise?” 

“As much as I can.” Guy smiles at her. “I don’t have much say over what he does, but I did warn him that I was bringing him home for dinner tonight, no ifs, ands, or buts.” 

“I’ll drag him here myself if I have to.” E.B. promises. “I’ll have my fishing pole at the ready.” 

“Atta girl.” Guy grins. “Why don’t you get some clothes on, drag a brush through your hair, and then you can help me with the eggs?” 

E.B. bounces eagerly, peering over the counter’s edge at what he’s got set up. “Green eggs?” 

“Of course.”

“You got it!” E.B. beams and runs back up the stairs to her room. 

Michellee watches Guy for a moment, and he does the same, just watching her back as if it’s all he wanted to do. 

“Good Morning.” She finally says softly, stepping closer. There’s a cup of tea waiting for her at the edge of the counter, still steaming. 

Guy smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily before he turns to stir what’s on the stove. “It is now.” He says sincerely, and it’s so cheesy that it makes her giggle. 

“That’s true.” Michellee smiles, picking up the tea and letting the warmth soak into her hands. “I’m very glad you came.” She admits. 

Cooking talents aside, she’d missed his quiet company. There was something soothing about having Guy around, even if they just sat there and didn’t say anything. She kind of understands what he meant by saying he felt safe around her. 

“Glad to be here.” There’s a depth of emotion in his words, and it lingers, even when he turns away to stir the oatmush on the stovetop. From the smell of it, it’s got cinnamon and raisins in it, sweetening the bland food. 

She hums, sipping her tea and resolutely ignoring the fact that her hair is a mess. It’s kind of fun to watch Guy try to sneak glimpses out of the corner of his eye and pretend she isn’t looking either. It’s a silly game, but it’s fun, and Guy is adorable when gets ‘caught’ and blushes. 

He has the frying pan out and on the stove when E.B. comes back in, her hair tied back into a ponytail, but not wrapped like she usually does, her hair a giant puffy pom-pom on the back of her head. Michellee opens her mouth to comment on it, then closes it, taking a sip of tea instead. 

E.B. is old enough to choose her own clothing, and make decisions about her own appearance.

Even if she’ll learn the hard way how easily curly hair tangles. E.B. got her curls from Michellee, and there are _reasons_ Michellee doesn’t wear her hair loose anymore.

She went through a lot of hair brushes. For a while there she wondered if perhaps her hair hadn’t grown sentience and was eating them. 

She slips away to get dressed and wrangle her own hair while E.B. helps Guy cook up green eggs for breakfast. She gets back in time to find them setting the table, both smiling as E.B. asks questions and Guy does his best to answer. 

They sit down to eat and it’s a little stilted, the three of them clearly missing a fourth. There’s pauses in the conversation, places where Sam would usually make a comment, but doesn’t because he’s not here. It’s better than when it was just her and E.B. for breakfast, but still a bit off. 

It’s funny how quickly they’d settled in to each having ‘their’ spot at the dining room table. E.B. sits across the table like she always has, but now she has Guy on her right. And the looming empty chair across from him where Sam should be.

She waits until E.B. takes the dishes to the sink before asking what’s really going on with Sam in a quiet voice. 

“He, um. He didn’t want me there today.” Guy scratches the fur at the back of his neck. “Don’t know if that’s good or bad. I offered, but he refused. You know how he is.”

“Not as well as you do.” Michellee admits with a small smile. She wants to touch him, put a hand on his cheek, brush his shoulder, something. “How long have you two known each other?”

Guy huffs, looking amused. “I really did meet Sam the same day I met you.” He rumbles fondly. “And Mr. Jenkins too.” 

“Oh. I… I thought you’d known him longer.” She stammers, surprised. Michellee thought he’d been lying about that. “Best friends who’d known each other for years.” Not a couple of weeks. 

“He sat next to me at the diner after my presentation, well. Blew up.” Guy says, sounding almost fond. “Wanted to know if I’d ever eaten Green Eggs and Ham. Made a right pest out of himself, and then turned around and helped me, made sure I got my food too. I left, and well. Grabbed the wrong briefcase on the way out. Spent the night with a Chickeraffe running loose in the hotel room.” 

That was not at all what she’d expected. “And then what?” 

“Well. That’s a bit of a story.” Guy looks towards the kitchen, then glancing at E.B., and the clock. 

Michellee follows his gaze, noting it’s almost time for her to leave and makes a snap decision. “One moment. Put the kettle on for tea, would you please?” 

Guy looks confused, but nods as she rushes off towards the telephone. She finds the number she’s looking for taped to the wall, unused to dialing it. 

The phone rings three nerve wracking times before the front desk picks it up. She states who she is and who she wants to talk to, and gets transferred to her supervisor. “I’m not feeling well today.” Michellee says, holding her hand over her stomach and doing her best to sound like she just finished vomiting. “I’m calling in sick. Hopefully it’s only a 24 hour bug.” 

“Not surprised with how out of you were yesterday.” Is the brisk response. “Stay home until you feel better.” And the phone is slammed down, her supervisor already on to other things. 

“Well.” She straightens, putting the receiver back on the hook. That had not been the response she’d been expecting. Although she’s a little surprised that anyone noticed that she was distracted yesterday, no one had said a thing.

Guy gives her a concerned look as she returns to the kitchen. “We’re good.” Michellee waves him off and pulls the teapot out of the cupboard, passing it to him. Considering how long their trip was, they’re going to need more than a cup of tea. “What happened next?” 

He pauses, looking at the clock, then back at her with a suspicious look. Guy doesn’t say anything for a moment, rolling things around in his head before shrugging a shoulder and moving again. 

They take the teapot and sat down on the couch, E.B. joining them, a curious look on her face. Guy cradles the cup in his hands, staring at the liquid for a long moment before he starts taking. 

The stolen car, catching the train and meeting them properly, getting ties from a Fox to feed Mr. Jenkins. Escaping toxic ooze in the dark, the case of mistaken identity at the carnival and working there for cash. Mailing themselves in a box, getting arrested and escaping thanks to a mouse. 

Staying with them in the cabin as it poured outside, the mercenary Goat, and trying to get both Michellee and E.B. to safety before fleeing. How the Goat repeatedly tried to kill them, and their lucky escapes. 

Staying overnight at his family’s house in Stovepipe Junction before the BAD GUYS arrived, escaping thanks to cantaloupes and meeting up with them yet again on the boat to Meepville. 

How Guy got arrested and found out that Sam wasn’t the Wildlife Protector he said he was. How Guy was essentially just a rube in the whole thing. 

Guy gets quiet there, staring at the now cold tea in his hands. “Sam showed up, dressed all in black, with Mr. Jenkins.” He finally says, as if speaking a confession. “Tried to get me to escape with him. I said some things I regretted as soon as I said them.”

“Oh, Guy.” E.B. is the one to move, sliding away from where she was leaning against Michellee, to curl up next to Guy. He looks surprised, almost confused as his shoulders come up in alarm. Then he relaxes, smiling softly at E.B..

She doesn’t think Guy has a lot of practical experience with kids, but he’s learning. He’s clearly letting E.B. teach him, in a way that’s both shy and sweet on both their parts. 

He continues the story, how Sam’s information about working for Snerz was enough to grant his freedom, and how he’d given up on everything at that point, starting as a paint watcher.

Until the wall started to shake and he heard E.B.’s voice, rushing over to help her, leaving the paint watching job behind. 

Michellee and E.B. know the story from there. E.B. smiles and laughs over the Girooster painted like Mr. Jenkins, while Michellee cringes over remembering accusing Guy of capturing and displaying all the animals simply because he was there.

She can see where he tried to gloss over things, most notably Guy’s hallucinations in the desert could have easily led to his death due to heat and dehydration. If Sam hadn’t come back for Guy and picked him up, his story would probably have ended there. 

Because of her assumptions. That if he was trying to hitchhike, he must be bad, rather than in the middle of a string of bad luck and bizarre circumstances beyond his control. 

And assumptions she’d carried for way too long. One that would have been easily corrected if she’d let him just… talk. Like he’d just done.

“Wow.” E.B. finally says, summarising everything. 

Guy chuckles, looking amused. “You said it.” He rumbles, stretching his arms up over his head, joints popping. “I lived through it and still can’t believe it happened to me.” 

E.B. nods, a thoughtful look on her face. “I’m going to go make him a card.” She decides, sliding out of her chair and walking to her room. Michellee and Guy watch her go, then look at each other, the air awkward behind them. 

“I don’t blame you. For anything.” Guy says quietly, staring at the teacup in his hand. “I didn’t explain what was going on well either.”

“You scared me.” Michellee admits, and Guy flinches like she hit him, leaning back away from her, to give her space. 

She smiles and shakes her head, reaching across the table. He hesitates a moment, putting his hand next to hers, and not moving until she twines her fingers between his. “It’s nothing you did.” She quickly amends, giving his hand a squeeze before pulling away, cradling her cup of tea and sighs. 

“My husband never knew about E.B.” She doesn’t speak of him often, but he will always be her husband. Never her ex-husband. They are not ex’s, they did not fight and split apart. They said their vows and kept them, til death did them part. “He was a bit of a thrillseeker, and he had a job providing entertainment for Snerz, and… well.”

They said Snerz never laughed as loudly has he did the day her husband fell.

“I’m sorry.” Guy whispers, looking at a loss for words. She smiles in thanks and shrugs, the smile fading away. 

“I was never on good terms with my family, which meant going back to them wasn’t an option. I didn't know much about his, so I found myself alone and pregnant in Meepville.” She sighed. “When one of my paintings got stolen, I decided that what was needed most for myself and my baby was stability. I took the money from my paintings and the payout from SnerZco and moved to Glurfsburg. I knew the money wouldn’t last forever, so I started working as a number cruncher almost immediately.” 

It hadn’t been easy. People had taken a look at a single mother starting fresh in a new city and decided her story of being a widow must have been a cover instead of the truth. Her boss had known, she’d read the news clippings Michellee had brought in, and she’d gotten a lot of support from her until she’d moved up the corporate ladder and left for Meepville. 

By then, E.B. had been born and old enough for preschool, so Michellee could focus on her work and bringing in more money. 

“I hadn’t… I didn’t date. Providing for E.B. took up everything. And it just was just easier, to not let anyone close again.” She closes her eyes and took a deep breath. “And then on the train… when we talked. It scared me, because here was this sweet guy with a charming sense of humour, who liked a lot of the same stuff I do. And I almost couldn’t believe it.”

“And then the Chickeraffe.” Guy says, in a self-deprecating tone. 

“I knew you were too good to be true.” Michellee’s mouth twisted. “So anytime things went wrong…” 

Vindication that she was right, that she couldn’t trust anyone other than herself. 

“-It meant that it was what I deserved.” Guy finished, looking tired. “That good things weren’t meant for me.” 

That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. “Guy?” 

“That meeting where my Self-Flyer, that was my last chance.” Guy covers his face with a hand. “If… _when_ I failed, that was it for me. No more inventing, no more trying. Just… Watching paint dry. Waiting for everything to end.” 

A slow death. A slow, long, _boring_ death. 

She couldn’t picture it for him. And yet…The person she’d met on the floor of the SnerZco meeting room was not the same person she was talking to now. 

“And then Mr. Jenkins happened.” She muses. 

He shakes his head. “Sam did. He gave me hope.” Guy presses his palm against his chest, right over his heart. “When I needed it the most, when I’d given up completely, he made me hope. Being his best friend, being his family, because he needs one? It’s not much of a price to pay at all.” 

“Even though he was a con man and lied to you about everything?” Michellee enquiries. She’s still having trouble with that. Sam is cheerful and polite, which she recognises now as a way of manipulating people. But even knowing that he was at the police station talking about past crimes he’d committed, it’s still hard to imagine Sam as a criminal. 

Guy shrugs. “Even though.” He agrees. “He’s not going to any more, that’s part of the agreement. If he gets in trouble with the law again, he goes away for everything. And in exchange, they catch some _really_ bad people.” 

He sighs, looking tired. “And even if it was all a mix-up to start with, it’s _Sam_. I think… I think he’s been looking for a way out for a long time, trying to latch on to someone, anyone, who could help him break the cycle.” 

“And he got us.” She meant to say ‘you’, but now the word is out and she can’t take it back. Doesn’t want to, really. “Although, looking at the two of you, I would have expected you to be the hardened criminal, with your grumpy scowl and forbidding glare, not him.” She smiles, to let him know that she’s teasing him, just a little bit.

“That’s part of the reason he originally picked me up.” Guy chuckles, his mouth trying to curve up and down at the same time. “As a patsy. If the cops got too close, he’d distract them with me, and get away with the Chickaraffe.”

“And yet, when that happened, he broke in to free you.” Michellee idly stirs her tea, trying to fit the new information in her head. 

“Yup.” Guy shrugs a shoulder, looking thoughtful. “I wasn’t the only one to change on our trip.” 

They all did, really. 

She hums thoughtfully, both of them taking a moment to breathe and reflect. 

“Is Sam still welcome here?” Guy asks quietly, hopefully. 

“Of course.” After the past couple of days of quiet, there’s nowhere else she wants him to be. “I’m not going to lie, it’s taking me some time to wrap my head around the fact that he was a wanted felon, but he’s still a part of us.” 

“Thank you.” Guy breathes, so very grateful that it makes her chest hurt. It’s not a very big thing at all, in exchange for everything she gets in return. Smiles and laughter, a home instead of a house. 

Michellee reaches across the table and pats his hand. “Anything I can do for you?” She asks. If anything, Guy looks more exhausted than he did earlier. 

Emotions take a lot out of people. And this was an emotional conversation, for both of them. 

“Can I borrow your couch for a nap?” Guy looks hopeful. “I don’t mind crashing with Sam, but his place is small, and it’d be nice to stretch out while I sleep.” 

“Of course.” Michellee easily agrees, rising and taking their teacups. He puts up a token protest, but it’s silenced as she shoos him towards the couch to sleep. It doesn’t take long to wash their teacups and saucers, setting them aside to dry. 

She breathes for a moment, then goes and checks on him. He’s already asleep on the couch, one of his arms is thrown over his eyes, the other falling off the edge of the couch as he snores softly. She smiles and picks up the afghan that’s folded over the back and tosses it over him. He mutters something about peanut butter, then settles back down. 

Michellee checks on E.B., finding her daughter caught up in drawing, and leaves her be, wandering into her office. She’s pulled out more of her art supplies, the office resembling less a professional work environment slash library, and more an art studio. 

She finds a large sketchbook, half filled with images she’d drawn over a decade ago, and flips to a clean page, grabs her coloured pencils, and begins to draw.

She sketches out a tree, the trunk twisted like the stovepipe hat Guy wears. A strovely oak in the autumn breeze, unbending as the wind playfully whisks the changing leaves into the air. 

Sheltered safely in the earth and roots of the tree, she uses a magenta pencil to draw a spiky puff ball. 

To everyone else, it’ll look like a bush. But they’d recognize Mr. Jenkins anywhere.

* * *

When she checks on Guy later, she finds that he’s not alone. Tucked in between Guy and the back of the couch is Sam, nearly hidden by Guy’s arm curled protectively around his small form. The fingers of Sam’s hands are tangled in the longer fur of Guy’s ruff, as if afraid of being torn away. She doesn’t think Sam’s actually asleep, but leaves them be, heading to E.B.’s room instead. 

“Want to help me pick up some paint?” She asks her daughter, who lights up like this is the most exciting treat ever. Maybe it is, E.B.’s been really taken with drawing lately.

E.B. holds Michellee’s hand without prompting as they walk, clasped hands swinging between them. They don’t really talk about much, but it’s nice to hear E.B. talking so cheerfully, happily. Sometimes Michellee doesn’t know how she ended up so lucky to have E.B. as her daughter. 

There’s only one more canvas upstairs, as tall as E.B. and nearly as wide. It doesn’t feel right for the sketch she’d made earlier today, but it feels right for what she has in mind for a different painting. 

The fact that she has multiple paintings planned is a pleasant change. 

They stop at the pharmacy first, to pick up stomach medicine. Glurfsburg is a small town, and it wouldn’t take much for it to get back to her boss that she was running errands when she was supposed to be at home because she was ill. And they could use the restock.

The art shop is just a few doors down and they head straight to the acrylic paints, Michellee grabbing black, royal blue, and cyan as E.B. peruses all the different colours and coos over all the different shades. Michellee grins. “Pick one.” 

“What?” E.B. looks startled. 

“Choose a colour.” Michellee motions to the rainbow of hues in front of them. “Any colour you think represents you the best.” 

E.B.’s eyes go wide, and she can practically see stars glimmering in them. “Really?”

“Yup.” Michellee smiles, holding up a single finger. “One colour.” 

“Got it.” E.B. nods, turning the paints with a look of determination on her face, like she’s been handed a very important mission that she dare not fails. 

It doesn’t take her very long at all, before she’s pulling out a tube and handing it to Michellee. “This one.”

“You sure?” Michellee double checks, and E.B. nods. 

“I’m sure.” 

“Okay.” Michellee looks at the label and smiles to herself. She would have chosen a paler colour for her daughter, something sweeter. But Magenta is fitting, given it’s a colour that doesn’t exist in the light spectrum. Their eyes can’t actually see the red-blue colour, and in the absence of green, their brain just fills the colour in as magenta.

An extra-spectral colour for her extra-special daughter. 

“It’s perfect.” She informs E.B., who beams broadly.

* * *

She paints the canvas black up at the top, and the lower right corner the vibrant bright magenta that E.B. chose. The black turns into blue, and purples until it finally hits the magenta, in an uneven swirling gradient. 

It takes about a half hour to dry enough for the next part. “I’m going to show you a trick.” She tells E.B., holding up an old fraying toothbrush. 

E.B. nods, looking confused as Michellee dips the tips of the bristles of the toothbrush into some light blue paint she mixed up. She knocks the extra paint off of the toothbrush, then brings the brush above the canvas and uses her thumb to spray the pale paint over the dark colours. 

“It’s stars!” E.B. catches on quickly, leaning back from the canvas, then peering closely at it again. 

“Yup.” She hands E.B. the toothbrush and the palette with the white and light blue paint on it. “It’s your star scape. Go nuts.” 

E.B. makes an excited noise in the back of her throat and grabs the tooth brush. Michellee stands back, watching her daughter figure out how to get the paint to splatter the way she wants it to, running around the canvas to make a glorious milky way across the sky. 

When E.B.’s satisfied with her tiny sparkling stars, she grabs a small round paint brush and dips it in the white paint, adding a few larger glimmering stars to the sunset. 

“How’s that look?” E.B. asks, looking at Michellee hopefully, so eager for approval that it almost breaks her heart. 

“It’s perfect.” Michellee smiles. “I have one thing to add though, if it’s okay with you?” 

“What is it?” E.B. glances between her and the canvas, a little alarmed. 

Michellee points to the canvas, right where the sky turns from purple to magenta and explains. E.B. gives a little squeal, hugging Michellee around the neck, then watches with rapt attention as Michellee paints. 

Adding a cold air red balloon, floating towards the setting sun, a long Chickeraffe neck leaning out of the basket. And if there’s a little girl in there with him, well, that’s their secret.

* * *

Sam finds her in her office while Guy and E.B. work on making dinner for the four of them, finding an unobtrusive place to sit and watch her as she finishes the painting of him and Mr. Jenkins. 

She doesn’t think anyone will be able to spot Sam easily with all the giant flowers that cover the painting. Mr. Jenkins is easier to identify, with his long legs and neck, the friendly expression on his face as he peers out from the large blooms, each the size of his head. 

Sam is mostly recognisable by his hat, which is half obscured. The only parts of him which are very visible are his feet, part of his chest, and the top half of his face, eyes closed under the brim of his hat, mouth covered by an opening bloom. It wasn’t planned, but the flower silencing him feels appropriate for all the secrets Sam keeps. 

“I used to think ‘No harm, no foul’.” Sam finally quietly says, apropos to nothing. “That as long as no one got hurt, everything was okay.” 

She’s not sure what to say about that, so she gives a small hum to acknowledge that she hears him, and keeps painting. 

“I’m learning, that just because someone wasn’t physically hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t hurt.” He continues softly. 

“True.” She’s learning that with E.B. By keeping her daughter physically safe, she was hurting E.B. in many other ways. 

Sam makes a soft thoughtful sound, lapsing into silence again. 

"I stole one of your paintings once." Sam mentions quietly as she adds magenta highlights to the edge of the flowers towards the bottom. He says it so casually that the words don't sink in for several brush strokes. 

She almost sets the brush down and faces him. "Oh?" Michellee says instead, switching brushes and dipping the tip in yellow, a bright daffodil colour like Sam himself. "Which one?" 

"I don't know what it's called." Sam shrugs, waving his feet back and forth so his toes brush together. "It was a seascape."

She immediately knows which one it was, she’d just described it to Guy. 'Storm on the Sea of Giggly', the only seascape she'd ever painted. Part of a historic theft, thirteen pieces of art from a private collection. The guards subdued but unhurt, the artwork never recovered. 

No clues as to who might have done it either. 

It had been the last piece she'd painted until now. She'd painted it right after husband's death, dealing with her sorrow and rage in the weight of the grey storm clouds, the cruel pale curl of the sea foam threatening to drag the small boat under. 

It was that theft that prompted her to leave Meepville. 

It really is funny, how their lives all intertwined with each other without knowing it. 

She looks at Sam, whose shoulders are up near his hat as he frantically looks everywhere but her. The temptation to ask who requested the theft is there, but she doesn’t. In the end, it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t want it back. 

That angry grey person isn’t who she is anymore. 

"What did you think of it?" Michellee asks, curious. 

Sam's quiet for a minute, contemplative. He relaxes slightly, less likely to flee. "It was pretty." He finally says, his voice dreamlike. "I wanted to take a ride on it. But sad, too. I like your current piece better." 

She looks at her canvas, with it’s bright vibrant colours, and the joyful mischievous look on Mr. Jenkins face. 

"Not just because it has Mr. Jenkins in it." Sam rocks forward, a small smile on his face, arms wrapping around his legs. "But it just seems... happier." 

That's easy enough to answer. "I am." Michellee admits, giving him a quick smile. 

Sam smiles back, silently rocking back and forth while she paints, seemingly content in her company until E.B. calls them down for dinner.

* * *

They have a Tofu Stir-Fry for dinner. It’s one of her favourite recipes, the binding in the cookbook she got it from creased to that page, little splatters of food all over it from the times she made it before she’d memorised it. 

E.B. looks extremely pleased with herself as they eat, and Michellee knows where the idea for tonight's dinner comes from. 

The tofu is a little under baked before it was fried, and the spices are a bit stronger than she usually uses, but it’s one of the most delicious things she’d ever eaten.

* * *

“E.B..” Michellee summons her daughter towards her, before she can go into the kitchen. “Do you know why Guy’s carrying Sam?”

She’s not entirely sure, and it’s still early in the morning. She could just be seeing things. 

One of the reasons mornings usually sucked, she was generally slow to wake up completely. Some days are harder than others.

“What?” With a suspicious look, E.B. peers around the door, peeking into the kitchen. Her expression clears, turning into a grin. Michellee leans over her, double checking if anything has changed. 

Guy is working on breakfast, one handed only. Sam is tucked under Guy’s other arm, arms and legs dangling. Guy looks like he has no idea that he’s carrying his best friend around like a cat. 

“It’s fine.” E.B. assures her. “I saw Guy do this before when Sam was stressing over something. He’ll pick Sam up and ‘forget’ to put him down.” 

“And Sam doesn’t mind?” Michellee wrinkled her nose. It seemed awfully strange. 

“Not that I’ve seen.” E.B. grins broadly and skips into the kitchen. “Hi Sam! Hi Guy!” 

“Hey Kiddo.” Guy turns and faces E.B., scooping her up under his other arm. E.B. laughs loudly as she’s carried into the living room. Michellee follows, watching as Guy tosses first E.B., and then Sam on to the couch, both of them bouncing and giggling. 

“Again!” E.B. demands, climbing off of the couch and running towards Guy. “Please!” 

“Alright.” Guy picks her up and tosses her on the couch, E.B. shrieking with laughter. She wobbles slightly as she gets off the couch and runs to him, arms outstretched for him to do it again. 

“Last one.” Guy informs her. “We need to finish breakfast.” 

“Is this safe?” Michellee murmurs out loud. 

“Oh, yeah. Totally. Kids love it.” Sam’s voice nearly makes her jump, clasping her nightshirt around her neck. “And it helps kids develop their vestibular sense, which is how the brain figures out where the body is in conjunction with everything else. Also helps with their developing sense of balance.”

Michellee stares at Sam, not really certain where that came from. 

Sam shrugs. “I can track down the medical journal article I read on it if you’d like. Read a bunch of them when I was impersonating a psychiatrist. Think I did pretty okay at it too, right up until I got found out, and then there was the whole lack of trust thing and a _loooot_ of name calling.” 

There’s a lot to unpack in what Sam just said. Michellee is most definitely _not_ currently awake enough to even attempt it. She’s not entirely sure she’ll ever be awake enough for that. 

Sam stares at her for a second, then speaks very slowly. “Yeeting kids is good for their health.” 

“Okay.” Michellee agrees, not entirely sure what a ‘yeet’ is. 

Sam takes her hand in his, patting the top of it sympathetically. “Come on.” He says gently, tugging her back into the kitchen. ”Let’s go get you some tea.”

She goes with him willing. Tea, at least, she understands.

* * *

She notices that Guy does that occasionally, now that it’s been pointed out. He’ll just pick up Sam and carry him around for a few minutes before setting him down again, Sam looking calmer for the contact. 

It’s most noticeable when the news is on. 

Sam watches the news with a new intensity, looking very small and nervous, pressed up against Guy’s side as he does so. She notes his reactions to several corruption charges against various business and government men, and wonders if it’s related. 

He doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t ask, deciding it’s probably better for her peace of mind not to know.

* * *

“Can we talk to for a sec?” Guy asks in a low voice, glancing over towards E.B., who is currently drawing something in her sketchbooks with a strange intensity that only children seem to achieve. She nods, and Guy quietly escort her out the door and to the backyard. 

Sam waves at them, crouched down next to a cardboard box that certainly hadn’t been in the yard when she’d left for work in the morning. 

“Something going on?” Michellee questions, wondering about the need for subterfuge. 

Sam presses his lips together, then nods, looking solemn. “Always.” 

Guy rolls his eyes and nudges Sam, who chortles to himself. “Sam found something today.” Guy explains, gesturing to the mysterious box. 

Michellee glances at both of them, then into the box. 

It’s a flemur. The flemur opens its eyes and looks up at Michellee with a weary, wary sort of look, like it’s not so sure of her. 

“She was sideswiped by a car.” Sam murmurs, crouching next to the box, and running gentle fingers down the flemur’s long neck. The flemur croons, arching into the contact. “Took a bit of a tumble.” 

It’s one of Sam’s strange contradictions. How animals react to people is supposed to say a lot about the person. Most animals like Michellee okay. Same with Guy. They tend to be friendly towards E.B., as if sensing her love of them.

But Sam? Animals _adore_ Sam. They go nuts over him. Which, given that he was a former criminal, made little sense to her. 

“As far as we can tell, she’s fine, just a bit bruised from taking a tumble to escape.” Guy explains, leaning over both of them. “There’s no collar or tags, and no one around seemed to recognize her, so we think she might be a stray.”

“A very friendly stray.” Sam adds with a grin as the flemur licks his hand. “And E.B.’s very interested in animals. We were thinking maybe she could foster the flemur until we find her owners?”

Michellee gives them a sharp look. “You know any ‘fostering’ will most likely be permanent.” 

She knows her daughter. As soon as she gets her hands on the flemur, E.B.’s not going to want to let go unless they do find the true owners.

She is not unaware that her daughter wanted a _chickeraffe_ as a pet, even when they thought Mr. Jenkins was a baby eater. 

“Yes.” Guy agrees. “Which is why we asked out here, and not _after_ introducing the flemur to E.B..” 

Sam rolls his eyes, and she knows who had what planned. “Flemurs are primarily vegetarian.” He comments, tone neutral in a way that completely wasn’t. “They do eat some seafood though.” 

And if the flemur was vegetarian, they wouldn’t have any issues getting food for her, given the mostly meat-free diet they kept. 

“This is going to all end in fire and disaster.” Michellee mutters to herself, rubbing her eyes. She can’t handle the thought of E.B. having a pet for good, the heartbreak that’s going to happen with the pet get sick or dies. Or heaven forbid, runs off again and gets hit by a car. But fostering, fostering she can handle. “Alright, fine. Fostering, until we find the owners.” 

Or didn’t, as the case may be. 

Michellee stands up, looking at both of them. “I am _**not**_ cleaning up the poop.” She informs them. 

“Wasn’t expecting you to.” Sam says sincerely, picking up the box with the flemur inside. “That’s going to be E.B.’s job. It’s training for dealing with animals in the future.”

… Which is a good point. 

“Okay.” She nods, trying to figure out how to explain that this is not permanent, and that it is a responsibility to take care of a pet. And what happens if it turns out the flemur doesn’t like E.B. Or if the flemur is sick, or suddenly dies. There’s so many ways this can go horribly, horribly wrong. 

She’s never had a pet, never been around pets, this is completely new and strange. 

Sam carries the box in, Guy following him like an oversized shadow, a mildly concerned look on his face. He’s not panicking, just concerned, and it helps her to find enough calm to put a placid expression on her face as she goes back inside. 

They wait for her to come in and lead the way into the living room, where E.B. gives them a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Michellee nods. “It’s just.... We were wondering if you might like to take on a responsibility.”

“What _kind_ of responsibility?” E.B. asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Because I already know how to do the laundry and wash my own clothes.” 

E.B. had made Mrs. McGrisses teach her not too long ago, E.B. deciding she was old enough and mature enough to take care of it on her own. 

“Not that kind.” Michellee motions for Sam to step forward and sets the box down. “Be gentle, E.B.” 

E.B. gives her a strange look, then slides out of her chair, moving closer to the box. Sam looks up at her, then puts a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. E.B. nods and tip toes closer, peering over the cardboard edges. 

And lets out a tiny little squeak before clapping her hands over her mouth. 

“She’s a bit bruised and needs to heal.” Sam says quietly as the flemur looks up at E.B. with a wary but curious expression. “We don’t know if she has an owner, but she’s going to need someone to take care of her until she’s better, or we find her family.” 

“I can do that.” E.B. crouches down next to the box, just looking the flemur over with an awestruck expression. 

“We can go to the library tomorrow and see if they have some books on flemur.” Guy comments, looking amused as E.B. waits until the flemur is looking at her before offering a hand as introduction. “What we can do to help her heal.”

E.B. looks up and nods, determination crossing her face, before she turns back to the flemur, who sniffs her hand, and presses against E.B.’s fingers, requesting affection that E.B. is happy to give. 

Michellee realises she’s going to spend at least the next week hearing random flemur facts. 

“We’ll need to see if we can find her owners too.” Michellee reminds her. “Make some posters to put up around the neighbourhood. We don’t want to break another kid’s heart if they’re missing their friend.” 

“You got it.” E.B. nods. 

They spend the evening making posters to place around the neighbourhood, that if anyone’s missing a flemur to contact them, Guy and Sam promising to put some up when they head home for the night. The flemur climbs out of the box investigate them, settling down halfway between E.B. and Sam, both of whom look delighted. 

Michellee doesn’t expect anything to come of the posters, but it’s nice to work together on a group project like this.

* * *

E.B. names the flemur ‘Florence’. Michellee wants to protest, naming things is how you get attached to them, but she bites her tongue.

When she checks on E.B. at night, she finds Florence curled up next to E.B.’s head on the pillow, both of them happy and content. 

She probably should have let E.B. have a pet a couple of years ago, when E.B. had first started asking, but she’s glad it happened now. 

And she’s never had her kitchen floor spit shined before. Any crumbs or mess are cleaned up by the flemur, which is an unexpected bonus.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

“The two of you should go out on a date.” Sam muses, his head propped up on both hands in a way that make his cheeks squish into his eyes, like he’s smiling without smiling. “I can stay and watch E.B., let you two _love birds_ go out and have some fun.” 

Michellee glances over at Guy, who seems a little surprised. He looks over at her, the two of them blushing a bit. “That sounds lovely.” Michellee admits. It feels like there hasn’t been time for that, even if there probably has been. It hasn’t been a real high priority over getting everything settled into a new normal. 

And with E.B. starting school soon, their new normal is going to shift some more. 

“Pick you up at six?” Guy offers. “There’s a nice looking place I’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Perfect.” Work gets off at five, that gives her just enough time to get home and change clothes into something a little nicer. If she has anything nicer. That’s going to take a moment to think about. 

Michellee glances over at her daughter, who looks excited about the upcoming date. “Maybe E.B. can help me figure out what to wear?” It wasn’t like she had a very expansive wardrobe. She went through it regularly and got rid of anything she didn’t wear. 

“Yes!” E.B. cheers, bouncing in her seat. “Oh! This is going to be so much fun! Are you going to wear makeup?”

“Maybe.” Michellee demurs. She has some, but she hasn’t put on more than chapstick in years and isn’t sure if she remembers how to do it. 

She looks over at Guy who is laughing at something Sam said, the smaller man looking sly. The nervousness in her stomach changes to something else, a little fonder.

She’ll figure it out, it’ll be worth it.

* * *

She doesn’t remember how to put on makeup at all, poking herself in the eye twice. She’d almost asked someone at work if they knew how to do it, then remembered that there really weren’t a lot of other women in her department. 

At least her dress is nice, found tucked away in the back of the closet, and free of flemur fur. It’s royal blue, a colour she doesn’t wear often. E.B. had looked a little too proud of herself when Michellee found it, and between the blue fabric scraps in the rubbish bin and the seemingly unending amount of skills that both Guy and Sam seemed to possess, it may not have always been there. 

Either way, she wasn’t going to argue. Now if only she can get this mascara to work, everything will be great-

“Here. I got this.” Sam’s voice makes her startle slightly, and she’s grateful she didn’t have the mascara brush to her eye. She looks down to find Sam watching with a small smile on his face. 

“You know how to put mascara on?” It’s not something she’d expected him to know. 

“And lipstick, and eyeliner.” Sam hops up on her vanity, sitting on it so he’s nearly eye level with her, perusing her scant make-up collection. “And I’m a total _wizard_ when it comes to blush. It’s all about the contouring.” 

“How?” She’s almost afraid to ask. 

“Let’s just say that I liked to be _flexible_ with my alias choices.” Sam smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright, open your mouth, just a little bit. Give me a good pout.” 

Well, he can’t be any worse at it then she is. She does as commanded, trying not to jump at his light, deft touch as he applies the lipstick. “There we go.” He murmurs, blotting the excess off with a tissue. “Alright, now close your eyes.”

She does. “Where’s E.B.?” Michellee asks, tilting her head a bit at the light touch on her cheek. She tries not to flinch at the feel of the eyeliner across the top of her eye, trusting him not to gouge her eyeballs out. 

“Giving Guy a pep talk.” Sam says absentmindedly, clearly focusing on what he was doing. “Or a shovel speech. Couldn’t really tell, honestly.” 

Probably a bit of both. 

“Your eyelashes are gorgeous.” Sam muses, painting Michellee’s other eyelid. “So long and thick. You really don’t need the mascara.” 

“Oh.” That’s an odd compliment. “Thank you.” She’d grown them herself. 

He hums in response. “Alright, one second, and you’ll be ready to go.” 

There’s a weight off her head, and she can feel fingers running over her scalp. It doesn’t hurt, quite the opposite, but it’s a little unexpected and makes her a little nervous. There’s a tug on her hair, and then she can feel Sam lean away from her. 

“Okay, now open your eyes.” Sam instructs and she does, looking at herself in the mirror. 

It’s her, it’s obviously still her, but with the makeup and her hair down, she looks… different. Softer. Less like a Mom or an office worker. 

“Wow.” Michellee breathes. She looks _good_.

Sam chuckles, jumping off the vanity. “That’s what Guy’s gonna say.” He comments, giving her a smile. 

There’s something a little… off about it. It seems a little more forced than his usual carefree sparkle. 

“He’s waiting for you.” Sam says sincerely, motioning to the door. And the next thing she knows, she’s being gently escorted out of her bedroom door, towards the living room. 

“Should I walk out and knock?” Guy is asking, sounding as nervous as she feels. “What… What’s the etiquette for this?” 

E.B. just laughs at him, and it makes her feel better. “You could just say ‘Hello’.” She comments, pausing in the doorway to the living room. 

Guy’s fur is nicely groomed, looking neat and shiny, and he’s got a green silk tie on that compliments his fur. “... Wow.” He breathes, staring at her with a gobsmacked look on his face.

“Told ya.” Sam smirks, standing next to E.B. “Now go on and have fun, you crazy love birds.” 

“Hello.” Guy says. He then shakes his head, stepping next to her, offering his arm. “You look really nice. Ready to go?” 

“So do you.” She smiles back, sliding her arm through his. His fur hides it, but he’s got some really nice muscles there. “And yes.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, neither moving, then they both start to giggle, leaning against each other as they do so. 

E.B. sighs. “I’m never going to understand adults.” 

“Neither will we.” Michellee informs her daughter. She shares a smile with Guy, and this time they actually start moving. “See you two later. Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

“No promises.” Sam grins as he waves. 

She’s almost worried, but not quite enough to care about it. She has a date tonight with a kind, intelligent man, and she’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

* * *

“Want to come in?” Michellee invites, looking at Guy under her eyelashes, purposely coy. It’s silly, it’s not like he isn’t in and out of the house all the time. 

“Well.” Guy says, looking just a little flattered. “If you’re asking-?”

She laughs and pulls him inside the house by his tie, feeling giddy, and only a little bit of it from the wine they’d drunk earlier. It’s been a long time since she’s let herself feel this way. Dinner was fun, the conversation interesting, and she’s not quite ready for it to end. 

They shut the door behind them, Michellee pressing Guy up against it and kissing him. He makes a lovely sound as he kisses her back, large hands cradling her face. 

…. It’s… nice. Not bad, not passionate, just… _nice_. 

She pulls back, looking at him, and seeing the same confusion mirrored on his face. They like each other, genuinely enjoy spending time together but… There’s no _zing_ to it. 

He makes a huffing sound in the back of his throat, and she can see him coming to the same conclusion. There is undeniably a connection between them, but romantic it is not. 

But it’s not entirely platonic either. 

He reaches up, hand hovering next to her face, silently asking permission. Michellee nods, and he runs his hand through her hair, the curls twining around his fingers. 

Guy sighs, tilting his head towards her, foreheads resting together. It’s tender, and somehow more intimate than the kiss they had just shared. 

It’s ridiculous. It’s completely ridiculous is what it is. First person she’s wanted to date in over a decade, and _nothing_. 

So ridiculous she wants to cry. 

She hiccups instead, and the two of them start giggling. They hold on to each other as do so, unable to speak until the laughing fit stops. 

Guy kisses her forehead when the giggles finally taper off, the two of them falling into a hug, arms wrapped around each other as they lean against the door. It’s comfortable, cozy, and feels right. 

“Friends?” She asks, her face pressed up against his shoulder. ‘Friends’ isn’t quite the right word for it, for what is between them, but she doesn’t have a better one right now to define it. 

“Always.” He agrees, chest rumbling under her ear. 

She hums in return, keeping her face hidden. As soon as he lets go, she knows she won’t be able to stop the tears, but for right now she’s got control over the water works. 

“You disappointed too?” Guy inquires, his voice heavy. 

“Yup.” 

He huffs, partly in amusement and it makes her smile. 

“It just… eliminates a possibility.” She informs him. One that she thinks both of them hoped for. “This doesn’t change anything.” 

Guy makes a grumbling noise deep in his chest that turns into a questioning one. “It doesn’t-?” He repeats quietly, almost wonderingly. 

A second later, she catches on. It really doesn’t change anything. 

There’ll be breakfasts in the morning, dinner at night. Hanging out on the weekends. E.B. playing with the Flemur as Michellee paints, Guy reads, and Sam does his thing. They’re still all be together. 

There’ll just be no wedding bells between her and Guy, no formal relationship like most people would know it. Good friends. Kindred spirits who like the quiet but are constantly drawn to chaos. 

She pulls back just enough to look Guy in the eye, finding the same sense of awe in his gaze, arms still loosely clasped around each other. “It doesn’t.” Michellee breathes. 

And then they’re laughing again, but this time it’s the giddy laughter of joy and relief, their foreheads pressed together. 

They’re going to be okay. 

“Although.” Guy muses. “I would love to go out to dinner with you again. As friends. This was fun.”

“I had a lot of fun tonight too.” She grins. It’s been such a long time since she had actual adult time, with conversation that had nothing to do with work or kids. “We should make it a regular thing.”

“I’d like that.” His smile is a little shy and crooked, but very sweet. 

“We’ll figure out when in the morning.” Michellee kisses his cheek. “It’s late.” And she needs a little time by herself to mourn what might have been. 

“Sleep sweet.” Guy kisses her cheek in return. He gave her hands a squeeze, then lets himself out of the door, and back out into the night. She leans against the door, heart feeling heavy.

She hears him sigh on the other side of the door, matching her own sorrow. He sniffs, then finally walks away, heading back to Sam’s place.

* * *

E.B.’s waiting for her when she gets upstairs. “Sooo.” Her daughter grins mischievously. “How’d it go?” 

“It was lovely.” Michellee answers honestly. “And we’re going to go out to dinner again sometime. But as friends.” 

E.B.’s grin fades, replaced by confusion. “But-”

“We’re still friends.” Michellee runs a hand over E.B.’s hair. “And they’re still coming over. Nothing’s changing. It’s just… Sometimes people are better not dating.”

Her daughter looks like she still doesn’t get it. “You know how when someone lies, their pants become on fire?” Michellee asks. E.B. nods, leaning against her. “Or when two people kiss, there are sometimes sparks?”

E.B. nods again. 

“Well. No sparks.” Michellee sighs. No zing. No hearts, or bird song. 

“Oh.” E.B. sounds very thoughtful. “But they’ll be here in the morning, right?” 

“They should be.” She says quietly. She hopes they will be.

* * *

“I don’t understand.” Michellee nearly startles at Sam’s quiet voice, sloshing her cup of tea a bit. She hadn’t heard him approach at all, his feet practically soundless on the living room floor.

She’d woken up early, having slept kind of fitfully and came down to make tea early. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. 

“What don’t you understand?” She echoes, grabbing a tea towel and wiping up the tea. 

“Falling in love with you was supposed to make Guy happy.” Sam says, gesturing with his hands, his eyes large and lost. “A guy… a girl… and adventure, isn’t this how it’s supposed to go? Happily ever after?” 

She wants to say that’s not how it always works in real life, but she’s distracted by another, niggling thought that grows and blossoms in her brain like a flower.

Sam was the one to suggest their dinner date, helping her with her makeup, she remembers with a jolt. 

Sam was the one to drag Guy to her door, that first morning after they got back to make breakfast. 

She remembers him making kissy faces at she and Guy on the ship, not so-subtly hinting at a romance between the two of them. At the time she was too scared and annoyed to think about it, but now it’s obvious in hindsight. 

She feels a bit like an idiot.

“You’ve been trying to set us up.” Probably as far back as the cabin in the rain. Both Sam and Guy don’t have a lot of roots, they could have easily moved on and found something else, but they didn’t. They’d stayed outside the cabin in the rain. “Why?” 

“Cause you’re a really cute couple?” Sam grins at her, wide, with a touch of desperation to it. 

Michellee crosses her arms and stares down at him, unimpressed. 

He sighs, and seems to deflate, staring down at the floor, the fingers of one hand clutching the fur above his heart.

“I’m never allowed to stay.” Sam confesses, his voice cracking a little. He smiles, a weak tremulous thing. “So, I figured, once it was time for me to move on, I’d at least make sure Guy was with someone he loves. To make him happy.” 

She wonders if Sam even realises how much he loves Guy. 

Because it’s so blatantly obvious now that Sam really does love Guy and would do anything to make Guy happy. Even if it broke Sam’s own heart in the process. 

“Hey.” Michellee reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, he’s even tinier and more delicate than E.B., even though she knows he’s much much stronger than he looks. 

“You are _always_ welcome here.” Michellee says sincerely. “Yes, the fact that you were a criminal took some time to wrap my mind around. But that never changed the fact that you are a part of this household.” 

She hadn’t thought her discomfort with Sam being a former con artist was obvious, but the amount of times that E.B. and Guy checked with her that Sam was welcome was probably a good indicator that she wasn’t as subtle about it as she would have liked. 

But she couldn’t imagine coming home and not having Sam here as well. The few times it’s happened, it just… didn’t work. 

His eyes go wide, sparkling with something that looks a lot like hope. Sam’s over twice E.B.’s age, but there are times like this that make him look so much younger. 

“Loving him does makes me happy.” She confesses. “And I think his loving me makes him happy too. It’s just that… there’s different kinds of love.” 

Sam doesn’t look like he understands. Neither Guy or Sam have talked a lot about Sam’s past, but she’s learned enough to know that he was an orphan, and it makes her wonder how much he missed, growing up without a family. 

She sighs. “I love Guy. And he loves me. But… If I had a brother, it’d be like that.” 

“Oh.” Sam’s face crinkles, looking uncertain. 

Michellee thinks, trying to put in a way Sam might understand. “What does it feel like when you hug him?”

His expression shifts, as if expecting a trap. ”Everything good in the world?” 

“And E.B.?” 

“Smiles and laughter.” 

“Exactly.” Michellee smiles. “You love Guy, and you love E.B., but it’s not the same feeling.” 

He looks thoughtful, and she can see the gears turning in his brain. The impulse to tell him to kiss Guy and how that feels is there, but she doesn’t think Sam’s ready yet. 

Given how devoted Guy is to Sam, Guy might be. Or will be soon. 

The thought of Guy loving them both in that way isn’t a bad one. Just… odd. She’d known triads like that back when she was a painter in Meepville. It’d stick out in Glurfsburg though. 

“Just remember that we love you and you’re stuck with us.” Michellee smiles, patting his shoulder, and rising to her feet. 

“You can’t choose your family.” Sam says quietly, clearly repeating something he’d heard somewhere. “Or even leave them. You’re just stuck with them. Forever.”

“Exactly.” ‘Family’ is not the word she would have thought to use, but it’s not _wrong_. This was not what she would have chosen for herself before she’d met Guy, Sam, and Mr. Jenkins. But they were hers now, and they were sticking together. 

Life was so much better together. 

“WHO LEFT THE BURNER ON UNATTENDED?” E.B.’s voice cracks through the air. “THIS IS _EXTREMELY_ UNSAFE.”

Sam laughs, high and a little more emotional than E.B.’s shout warrants. Michellee just rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Thank you, E.B..” She calls, heading back inside to put out the fire. 

Not literally.

* * *

When she comes back downstairs, dressed and somewhat ready for the day, Guy is sitting, reading the paper like he usually is, a grumpy scowl on his face while E.B. giggles. 

“Morning.” He lowers the paper to give her a small smile, before shooting a glare at Sam, who rolls his eyes with an unrepentant look. 

Michellee would be lying if she didn’t a weight falling from her shoulders. She hadn’t realised how afraid she’d been that he wouldn’t show up today. 

“Sam ditched Guy this morning.” E.B. informs Michellee with an amused smirk. “Guy woke up to an empty place and panicked.”

“I did not panic.” Guy grumbles. 

“He totally panicked.” E.B. asserts. 

Michellee glances over at Sam, raising her eyebrow in question. Sam shrugs, then nods. “Little bit.” 

Guy harrumphs in the back of his throat, turning a newspaper page. “I did not.”

“I thought he was going to start shouting.” E.B. says brightly, then shoves food into her mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Instead, he just sat down and started reading the newspaper.” 

“Loudly.” Sam adds, nodding. 

“Aggressively.” 

“Nice vocabulary word.” Sam smiles at E.B., reaching across the table for a high five. 

E.B. grins broadly, slapping Sam’s hand with a loud smack. “Getting a jump start on my school reading.” She declares proudly.

Michellee really does have an excellent daughter. “Good girl.” She praises, smiling at E.B.’s glowing face. She leans to the side, peering around the newspaper to look at Guy. “So did you?” 

Guy raises an eyebrow at her, then lowers the newspaper enough to peer at the smaller two before raising the newspaper again. “Maybe a bit.” He mutters, just loud enough for her to hear. There’s a slightly frazzled air to him, very similar to the air around Sam before Guy picks him up and carries him around for a bit until he’s calmer. 

It’s a pity Guy’s too big for the same. 

“Softie.” She whispers back, resting her hand on his and giving it a squeeze. He looks up, twisting his hand to squeeze hers back, before turning his attention back to the newspaper, acknowledgment and thanks all in one. 

She feels her heart flutter a little bit, happiness and relief that he was here, that last night hadn’t ruined everything. 

When she leaves for work, he kisses her temple when the other two aren’t looking, wishing her a good day, then wanders off to do the dishes, calling for Sam and E.B. to help him with it. 

Everything is going to be okay.

* * *

Michellee steps into the kitchen, hands reaching for the steaming cup of tea waiting for her on the counter, only to promptly miss as she goes skidding across the floor. She screams and flails, grabbing ahold of the counter just in time to keep herself upright. 

“Careful!” Sam’s voice calls as she gets a grip, her heart hammering in her chest, now suddenly wide awake where she hadn’t been moments before. 

“Are you okay?” E.B. asks, concerned. 

“I’m fine.” Michellee says, her voice shaking a little bit. She clears her throat and repeats herself, more to reassure herself than anyone else. “I’m fine.”

Guy rushes into kitchen, towel around his waist, fur dripping wet. “Everything okay?” He asks, looking around in a panic. 

“Guy.” Sam grins, more of a playful leer. “Looking _good_.” 

“Thanks.” Guy says absently. Michellee bites her lip, trying not to laugh. She wonders how much of that is play, and how much of that is honest comment on Sam's part. Guy looks at her, grip on the towel tightening as he blushes in embarrassment. “Um. Sorry. There was an incident, with the orange juice-”

“Guy got soaked in it.” E.B. informs her, clearly trying not to smile. Michellee realises that E.B. and Sam are standing there with a mop and towels in their hands, clearly cleaning up the mess. “I told him he could take a shower here.”

“No, that’s good.” Michellee waves them off. “Totally fine. Please, feel free to use the shower whenever you need to, good hygiene and all that.” 

“Thanks.” Guy looks down, still clearly a bit flustered. He really does look good, wet fur showing off the wiry muscles across his shoulders and arms that are usually hidden. 

Guy’s flustered look shifts into annoyance as he picks something off his stomach, pulling purple strands out of his brown. “I don’t get it. I was _just_ in the shower getting clean. How am I already covered in flemur hair?!” 

As if summoned, Florence coos at them all. Guy scowls at the flemur, then storms off back towards the bathroom. Both Michellee's and Sam’s heads tilt to the side as they watch him leave, admiring how the towel clings to his hips and butt. 

He does have a fantastic rear.

E.B. sighs, shakes her head, and heads out the back door to rinse out the mop she’s carrying, her expression clearly stating that all adults are crazy. 

Michellee’s happy the way things are now between the two of them, the gentle affection. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t mind a chance to play once in a while.

“Should have smacked that when I had the chance.” She sighs. 

“I did.” Sam grins. He glances around, double-checking that E.B.’s out of earshot, then his grin turns into a smug satisfied smirk. “Once.”

“How was it?”

“Exquisite.” Sam sighs, sketching the curves of Guy’s rear in the air with his hands. “Good amount of muscle for firmness, just soft enough to jiggle slightly.”

“Hmmm.” She hums happily. Guy does have nice fur and muscles. 

“You should try goosing him sometime.” Sam grins playfully at her. “Pinch his butt. I bet he’d have a great reaction.” 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to refuse. It wouldn’t be polite. And probably give the wrong message after the whole ‘not dating’ thing. 

It’s also a little strange, knowing that Sam’s in love with Guy, yet encouraging her to grope his best friend. It makes her wonder what his angle is on the whole thing. 

But there are no shadows in Sam’s face, just a lighthearted mischievousness. “... Maybe.” Michellee hesitantly agrees. She does want to. At least once... “But only if you’re there to see his reaction.” 

“Deal.” Sam grins, holding out his hand. She takes it, shaking on it.

* * *

“Can I pinch your butt?” Michellee asks after dinner that night, just as Guy’s standing up, stretching his arms above his head. He pauses, arms still above his head, first looking at her with a perplexed expression, then shifting to suspicion as he looks at Sam. 

Sam grins back, propping his elbows on the table, before lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. 

Guy turns back to Michellee. “Sam put you up to this, didn’t he?” 

“Maybe.” She admits, trying not to smile. Sam’s smile grows wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

E.B. wrinkles her nose. “Is this how adults flirt?” She demands, looking put out. 

“Not usually.” Michellee smiles. Guy’s eyes narrow at her. “And it’s not flirting. This is more of an… _appreciation_ thing.”

“Appreciation, my butt.” Guy sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes. _One_.” He grumbles. 

“Thank you.” Michellee smiles, then reaches over and grabs the curve of his butt, giving it a nice squeeze. 

Guy makes a squeaking noise in the back of his throat, straightening up slightly. She gives his butt a pat and sits properly in her chair again. 

“You were right.” She informs Sam. Firm with just enough give to get a really nice handful. “It’s lovely.” 

Sam beams back. “Right?” He bounces in his chair. 

Guy just sighs again, shaking his head as he picks up his plate and walks towards the kitchen. “You can pinch mine.” Michellee offers cheerfully. 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Guy calls back, not even pausing. 

Sam turns to E.B. “Don’t go around pinching people’s butts, okay?” 

E.B. makes a disgusted noise. “As if.” She says with a great deal of dignity, scooting out of her chair and making her way to the kitchen as well, Florence following on her heels. “Adults are _weird_.”

“Well.” Michellee turns back to Sam, who is looking entirely too amused by everything. “She’s not entirely wrong.” 

“No.” Sam admits. He holds his mug up, extending it towards her. She takes her tea mug and clinks it with his. “To appreciation.” He says. 

“To appreciation.” She agrees, then takes a drink. 

It’s kind of funny to realise that she has something in common with Sam, even if it is Guy’s butt.

* * *

Canvases, especially the large sizes she prefers, aren’t cheap. So Michellee sets the paints aside for a while until she can save up for more. It’s not a big hindrance, she fills her sketchbooks up instead, pictures of E.B., Sam, and Guy. Some are memories, some are still life as they settle down and don’t move for a little while.

Those are usually Guy and E.B., Sam doesn’t seem to be able to sit still for anyone or anything for very long. 

Her favourite times are after dinner, she and Guy on the sofa, leaning against his warm side while he reads and she draws whatever comes to mind. Sometimes she catches Guy watching her work, but generally it’s nice to be close to someone while still being in her own head. 

Still, it’s a surprise to come home to find them in the backyard with rolls of canvas and wood. Guy and E.B. holding down the edges as Sam runs around with a staple gun, fixing the canvas tauntly to the wood frame underneath while the flemur runs in circles around them, excited at the goings on.

“Mom!” E.B. grins broadly as Michellee steps out onto the grass. She looks around, realising that they have a half dozen canvases done. Various sizes and shapes are leaning up against the house, ready for a coat of gesso primer and for her to start painting on. 

“How?” She asks, looking between them and the canvas they’re finishing in surprise. 

Guy clears his throat awkwardly as Sam finishes the last staple. E.B. and Guy hold their hands away, the fabric remaining tight without any wrinkles. “Done!” Sam cheers, setting the staple gun down and helping E.B. pick the canvas up to join the others. 

“Well.” Guy drawls, with just a little bit of swagger to his tone as he picks up a small canvas and shows it to her. It’s a little crooked and the fabric isn’t straight, it’s clearly a first attempt, but it’s still a usable canvas. “I _am_ an inventor.” He grins proudly. 

The canvas in his hand, for no reason she can discern, suddenly explodes, covering him in ashes and soot from the waist up. 

“ _GUY!_ ”

“ _ARE YOU OKAY_?!” 

E.B. and Sam shout over each other, rushing over and stepping around the burning fragments of canvas and slivers of wood. The flemur hides behind Michellee with a worried trill. 

“I’m fine.” Guy says slowly, in a flat monotone. He runs a hand over his face, smearing the dark soot. “I’m going to go for a walk.” He informs them, then strides off, his shoulders slouched and dejected, leaving the stench of burnt fur behind. 

Michellee glances between Guy and Sam, who is watching him go with a concerned look. “Should we go after him?” She asks. 

Sam glances at her for a second, mouth open, then squints at Guy for a moment before straightening up and shaking his head. “Give him a half hour to cool off.” He advises. “If he’s not back by then, I’ll track him down and talk to him.” 

“You sure?” E.B. presses, looking worried. The flemur makes her way to E.B. and is promptly picked up and snuggled. 

Michellee has been afraid that E.B.’s enthusiasm for a pet would lead to her suffocating the flemur with affection, but it hasn’t happened yet. E.B. seems happy to let the flemur come to her for attention, not the other way around. 

“Yeah.” Sam smiles, a curve of his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guy’s a big ole grumpy teddy bear, but he does have a bit of a temper. Let him work through it first.” 

“Okay.” Michellee agrees, taking Sam’s word for it. He does seem to know Guy the best out of all of them. “Why don’t we get these canvases inside? It’s supposed to rain later tonight.” 

Sam nods and takes it as the excuse to move that it is, picking up one of the large square canvases that's about twice his height and carrying it inside without the slightest bit of difficulty. She belatedly remembers him wandering around with a briefcase containing a Chickeraffe without a problem and wonders just how strong he is, especially considering how tiny he is. 

E.B. sets the flemur down and grabs the end of one of the longer canvas, it’s not very heavy, but it’s going to be tricky to get through the doors with only one person, and Michellee takes the other. “Is this what the three of you get up to when I’m not here?” Michellee asks, walking backwards towards the house. 

“Sometimes.” E.B. admits. “Guy’s briefcase is full of tools, he does a lot of maintenance around the house. The washer and dryer don’t make noises any more, and the damp spot on the roof is fixed too. Sometimes he works on other people’s stuff too, Mrs. McGrisses’ car purrs like a tiger now. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s enough to get the ingredients for dinner and breakfast.” 

She hadn’t thought to ask about that, but it does seem weird now, that Guy and Sam always seem to have just enough money to cover food for all of them. 

“His repairs don’t explode, and nothing he’s made with me or Sam has either.” E.B. shrugs a shoulder, like explosions weren’t a big deal. “I think he got his hopes up today, that things wouldn’t explode around him any more.”

Which of course, it then did. 

“Mom.” E.B. fixes her with a serious look. “You’re not going to make me stop helping Guy build stuff because of this, are you?”

“No.” It seems silly to blame Guy for something he clearly couldn’t control. And she knew Guy well enough to know that he’d never willingly put E.B. in danger. “As long as everyone’s careful.”

“We are.” E.B. cheerfully informs her, and she realises that E.B.’s wearing a pair of safety goggles, as well as too-large thick protective gloves. Sam had them as well, Guy had not. Probably having given his set as well as a backup pair to E.B. and Sam to protect them. 

Sam darts by, ducking past them and limboing under the canvas before disappearing back outside. The flemur follows him, bouncing in excitement. 

“What else are they teaching you?” Michellee asks, curious. She hears the stories about their days and trusts both Guy and Sam with her daughter, but she hadn’t known about the repairs or teaching E.B. how to do them. 

E.B.’s eyes go wide in the way she did when she was trying to think of a lie. “Nothing.” 

Michellee’s eyes narrow. “ **Elanabeth**.” 

“Pickpocketing.” Sam’s voice pipes up behind her, nearly making her jump and drop the canvas. She glances behind her to find that he’s already got another canvas in his hands. “Also lockpicking. She’s got the light fingers for it.” 

“What?” She can feel fear and panic rising in her chest, the thought of her daughter turning into some sort of _hoodlum_ , being trained by a _thief_ , oh goodness her daughter was going to be a _criminal_ -

“Not for the reasons you think, Mom.” E.B. speaks quickly. “Both Guy and Sam made me promise not to do any of it unless it was to get me or someone out of danger. And absolutely not at school.” 

“They’re good skills to have.” Sam nods. “You never know when either one could save her life.” 

Michellee closes her eyes and breathes, focusing on filling her lungs, holding her breath for a moment, then exhaling. She is not jumping to conclusions. She is not. She will think this through logically, and ask questions, so there are no misunderstandings. 

Again. 

Sam is on a short leash. If she went to the police with this, he’d spend the rest of his life behind bars and they’d never seen him again. Guy’s not here to talk her down, she could be rid of him once and for all, and all the morally grey questions he brings up. She won't, but the possibility is still there.

Which makes her wonder why he did it. Much less confessed to it. 

Sam _loves_ E.B. like a sister, and the feeling is mutual. She doesn’t think Sam would do anything to purposely hurt her daughter. Given what little she knows of his background, this is probably his way of giving her tools to protect herself. 

And he’d just kept E.B. from lying to her. 

She opens her eyes, looking down at Sam, who has a carefully blank look on his face, waiting for her reaction, stubbornly not moving. “Is she good at it?” Michellee asks, trying to keep her voice level.

Sam thinks about it for a moment, then tilts his head to the side and waggles his hand. “Eeeeeh.” 

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or not. 

“It’s not like I can practise it very often.” E.B. points out, just a little petulant. “We don’t have a lot of locks to pick, and Guy’s getting smart to the pickpocketing.” 

… Which might have been another reason for Sam teaching E.B. to pickpocket, to get Guy to be more aware. 

“Can you get your hands on the locks that Snerz was using on all those animals?” Michellee asks. 

Sam hesitates, giving her a skeptical look as if anticipating a trap. “Why?” 

“If E.B. is going to be a Wildlife Protector, she’s going to need how to get those off, even if she doesn’t have a key.” Michellee says, attempting to sound casual. She would _not_ allow a repeat of that happening again, not if she could help it. 

E.B. makes an excited squeak, vibrating a little bit. The flemur joins in, although Michellee doubts the fuzzy creature knows what E.B.’s excited about, simply that she is. 

“I never used shackles when transporting anyone.” Sam admits, shifting the canvas he’s holding. “I’ll ask Gluntz. She may have a spare pair. If nothing else, we can figure out how to break them and pass that information along to the BAD GUYS.” 

“YES!” E.B. cheers, bouncing up and down. “Oh, this is so cool!” 

“None of this at school! We are not doing this for nefarious means!” Michellee reminds her sternly, then has to take a moment to wonder when this became her life. 

No, she knows exactly when it was. 

And she doesn’t regret it much at all.

* * *

She’s working on a painting when Guy comes back, his voice soft and soothing as he talks with E.B. and Sam, getting dinner started. Sam and E.B. helped her cover most of the canvases with a basic primer coat of gesso, and they’re drying now. 

Although, considering the amount of purple flemur fur that has shown up stuck to the gesso, she may declare the office a ‘Flemur Free Zone’. 

One canvas in particular though, she’s set aside. It’s a nearly perfect square, just a little wider at the top than the bottom. It’s so slight that most people probably won’t notice, but it’s endearing to her. Proof that it was made for her, with love.

The rough sketch took no time at all, and she barely had to look at the drawing she’d made earlier, the image seeming to flow out of her fingers. 

If the flame coloured flowers were Sam, and the vivid sky was E.B., this one is Guy. The autumn oak with the Chickeraffe hidden in the roots, safety and solidity in the face of change. 

She’d picked up the paint earlier, knowing she was going to paint this. Warm browns, soothing tans, and mellow gold. Dark brown like his eyes, no black. A dash of red for the leaves, the harbinger of transformation.

Guy comes into the room as she’s filling in the stark white with a friendly golden tan. It’ll be the background of this image, the yellow being the setting for all the browns that she’ll layer on top of it. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her paint for a while. 

Most people, she feels a little anxious about having them watch her paint, but Guy doesn’t give her that feeling at all. He doesn’t quite count as company, and she wonders if he’d be interested in working on technical blueprints while she paints, the two of them creating together. 

“Sorry for leaving earlier.” He finally says as she puts the large brush she’d been working with into a jar of water to clean. “I needed to clear my head.” 

“Understandable.” It’s a much better coping skill than some others. She turns to look at him. It looks like he splashed some water on himself, but he’s still covered in soot. “You mentioned Sam’s place is small, do you have a shower there?” 

“Ahh.” He hesitates. “Sort of. I rigged one up outside.”

She makes a note to check out where exactly Guy and Sam are living. E.B.’s school starts soon, which means winter is coming up. And for all she knows, they’re sleeping in a tent, and she doesn’t want them to freeze. 

Although she’s not sure where they’d stay here, unless she gave up her office. They’ll need to talk about that soon, before the weather changes too much. Between the four of them, she’s confident they can figure it out. 

“You can get clean here.” Michellee assures him. “Although you may find yourself smelling like cupcakes and flowers.” 

Guy blushes beautifully and she finds herself grinning in delight.

“I did have a thought though.” She changes the topic, and he looks relieved to be let off the hook. “E.B. mentioned that you’ve been repairing some things around the house.”

“Uh, yeah. Just little things, nothing big. It’s how I made money on the side when I was focusing on inventing.” He fidgets slightly. “If that’s alright?”

“It’s totally fine.” She’s learned how to do some house maintenance stuff, but Guy certainly had more experience with it than she did. “But I was thinking, what about you and Sam becoming Fixers?” 

His eyes go wide, jaw dropping slightly. “Fixers?” 

“You’re good at fixing anything mechanical, right?” Michellee smiles. “And Sam, well, Sam’s good at fixing situations. I mean, look at the four of us. We’re all the better for knowing each other.” 

Sam had tried to fix Guy up with Michellee, and when that didn’t work, he fixed the awkward situation between him and her. And he’d given E.B. her fondest desire, a pet. 

“This is true.” Guy rubbed at his jaw, thinking. “There’s some forms and stuff we’d need to fill out, licensing things. But it’d be a way of bringing some money in. And it’s kind of fun.” 

“Better than watching paint dry.” She teases. 

“Completely true.” He agrees, stepping close and kissing her cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome.” It’s her turn to blush, and he looks entirely too amused by it. Michellee waves him off. “Go get clean. I’ll check in on the kids.” 

“You do know that Sam’s less than a decade younger than you and I, right?” Guy questions. 

“He acts like a kid, he gets called a kid.” Michellee turns her nose up, pretending to be strict about it, and he laughs. 

“Fair enough.” He grins, heading for the door. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

“See you then.” Michellee waves, watching him go for a moment before picking up her paint brush. 

Just like this painting, they’re a work of art in progress. And it’s going to be beautiful when it comes together.

* * *

Guy and Sam live in small trailer home that doesn’t have wheels. 

Michellee checks the piece of paper in her hand, then glances back at the piece of paper in her hand, verifying that it’s the same address that Donna had given her. 

8351 North Bluff Gluff. This was the right place, according to the number on the mailbox. There’s several holes in the grass, like there was once a variety of signs there, but what they said she doesn’t know. 

Michellee’s pretty sure that Donna gave her the right information. The restaurant owner had practically lit up when Michellee had mentioned looking for Sam, singing the former convict’s praises. 

… She’s also pretty sure that no one else in Glurfsburg is aware that Sam was a criminal. Michellee’s not going to advertise it, but it’s a little odd, knowing a completely different person than everyone else does. 

She walks around the vehicle, seeing that there’s been some work happening on it, the engine block is sitting next to the open hood, and there’s some tyres sitting next to the bare rims, obviously just waiting to go on. 

And there’s a shower rigged up behind the trailer, with a plastic curtain on a hula-hoop, with a large gardening water can on a pulley above it. 

… Guy had said he’d made a shower, but she hadn’t put it quite on context. She didn’t see a toilet either, and there's no plumbing going to the trailer. It's not meant to be a permanent home, but one to be moved from place to place.

It’s so _tiny_. She can see how Sam could live here quite comfortably, given his diminutive stature, but Guy having some issues was entirely understandable. No wonder they were over as often as they could. 

This… this was not going to stand. That was it, they were moving in with them. It was ridiculous that they walked to sleep in this cramped little place every night, and then walked back to her place early in the morning. She didn’t care if it meant E.B. sleeping with her for a while, they would figure something out. 

Dammit, they deserved better than this.

“Michellee?” She turns to find Guy walking up the street, looking at her in confusion. He’s smeared with oil, his battered briefcase in one hand. 

“Guy?” She takes a few steps towards him, reaching out to touch him, then pulls her hand away before making contact. “What happened to you?” 

It doesn’t _quite_ look like he was caught in another explosion. She’s a little disturbed that she can tell the difference now. 

“Automotive Mechanics’ license.” He reaches into his case, pulling out an official looking piece of paper with a small grin. “Had to get a little dirty to show I knew what I was talking about.” 

“You’re becoming a Mechanic?” She questions. That is… unexpected. 

“Took a look into what you said about being a ‘Fixer’.” The corner of Guy’s mouth lifts up into a smile, but his eyes remain looking tired. “It’s not currently a job title, so we’ll have to make it up as we go, but I already have an Architect's license. Thinking either Plumber or Electrician is next. May have to do some reading up on plumbing first.” He adds thoughtfully.

“That’s amazing.” She feels a little flutter of excitement, she hadn’t actually expected him to look into it seriously. 

Guy shrugs, like it isn’t an impressive feat. It is something to be proud of, but Guy is… not. Michellee hesitates, reaching out and touching a patch of fur on his arm that wasn’t covered in oil. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He waves it off, then pauses, running a hand down his face. “It’s just… One of those days today.” 

“How so?” She tilts her head to the side. 

Guy sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “Where everything just seems so… hopeless. I know, logically, and from experience, that it’s not. But…”

“-It’s hard to shake.” She finishes the thought. Guy looks up at her in surprise and she presses her lips together in a tight smile. “For me, it’s that everything is going to get me. Or E.B. I know that the chances are that the worst case scenario won’t happen, we won’t be run over by a runaway train, I won't lose control of the car, and not every stranger is a deranged lunatic. But-”

“-It doesn’t stop it.” Guy nods, understanding in his face. “Things have gotten better since meeting Sam. This doesn't happen as often, but occasionally-”

“There are days that are stronger than others.” She does her best to not let her anxiety and paranoia rule her life, but sometimes it’s hard. It doesn’t excuse her actions, but it does influence them. 

Guy’s right, having him and Sam has helped, especially knowing that E.B.’s care isn’t just resting solely on her anymore. It’s a burden off her shoulders that she hadn’t realised was there. 

“Exactly.” Guy gives her a small weary smile. “What brings you by?” 

Michellee shrugs, deciding that honesty is probably the best answer. “I wanted to see where you lived.” 

“It’s not much.” Guy deadpans, and it’s clear from his expression that he’s well aware of the understatement. “Give me another week or so and I should have it driveable though.” 

“I was thinking.” She ventures. “The two of you should move in. With E.B. And me.” 

He hesitates, clearly not jumping at the opportunity. “We… kind of already have.” He says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, smearing the oil across his cheek in the process. 

“I know. But I mean, officially.” 

Guy sighs, eyes closing for a moment, wrestling with something in his head. “The question of ‘how’ comes up.” He finally says, the weariness in his eyes carrying over to his voice. “I’m not saying ‘no’, I’m saying we need to figure out the logistics of it, and talk it over with Sam and E.B. first. If nothing else, once we get this mobile again, we can park it in the backyard and we sleep closer.”

She nods. It’s not what she would prefer, but it’s a logical proposal. 

“And…” He hesitates, grimacing. “What would we tell anyone who asks?”

Michellee falters. He’s not entirely wrong. Her social standing isn’t that great, not that she thinks either Sam or Guy have noticed. But having two unrelated men move in with her and her daughter… That’s going to cause some talk. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Michellee says firmly. “Between the four of us, we can come up with some sort of plan. If nothing else, we can say that you’re renting my spare bedroom.” 

Which then would bring the need to explain why she needs the extra income, but that’s another bridge to come to when they have to cross. 

“Just make sure any plan you devise with Sam involves words, and not just noises and hand gestures.” Guy adds with a great deal of weight. “Trust me on that.” 

“Noted. In the meantime though, you can get clean back at the house.” She says firmly. 

Guy looks like he wants to protest, then closes his mouth with a sigh and a grumpy look. “I’m not going to waste my time arguing against something that’s in my best interest.” He mutters. 

“I knew you were the smart one.” Michellee says sweetly, and he grumps in the back of his throat. 

“Let me get my degreasing shampoo and I’ll walk back with you.” He grumbles, stalking off towards the trailer. 

She almost makes a joke about him not wanting to smell of flowers and cupcakes, like her shampoo, and bites it back. 

By the time they get home she forgets about them moving until she’s falling asleep in bed, Guy and Sam having already walked home, and she reminds herself to bring it up later.

* * *

Guy’s shampoo remains in the shower, and makes her smile every time she sees it. She borrows it occasionally when the paint isn't coming off her fur and is delighted by the citrus scent.

.... Although there does seem to be a not insubstantial amount of flemur hair in the shower.

* * *

“A little help!” Michellee calls as she walks up to the front door, groceries in her arms. Sam and Guy buy most of them, but there are things that they forget, and things that Michellee doesn’t need or want them to buy for her, no matter how close they are. 

A lady needs some mystique anyway. 

“I got it!” E.B. shouts, running from where she was playing with the kid across the street. 

“Oh, E.B.” Michellee smiles. “Where’s everyone?” 

“Sam and Guy are out fixing something, so I locked the doors while I was playing.” She says breathlessly, reaching up into her hair and pulling out a couple of bobby pins. “But watch this.” 

E.B. crouches down in front of the door, a look of concentration on her face as she inserts the bobby pins, and gives them a little twist.

A few seconds later, the door opens up, almost as easily as if she’d used a key. “Ta-dah!” 

“Is that how they get in every morning?” Michellee questions. Come to think of it, she knows she locks the doors every night. Not that she’s ever needed to worry about it in Glufsburg, but old habits die hard.

“Sometimes Sam does.” E.B. agrees cheerfully, taking one of the bags from Michellee’s arms as they step inside. “The rest of the time Florence wakes me up as they’re walking up so I can let them in.” 

“I should just get everyone their own key.” Michellee muses to herself. Really, she’s surprised she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Even me?” E.B. brightens at the thought. 

“Even you.” Michellee smiles. Her daughter has proven herself responsible enough not to lose the key. 

“Sweet.” E.B. grins. “Now I can start inviting boys over.” She chirps, darting ahead to the kitchen. 

“E.B.!” 

“Kidding, Mom.” E.B. calls back. “Kidding!”

* * *

“Sam helped me get my school supplies today.” E.B. announces over dinner, wiggling a bit in her seat. Florence is currently at her feet, eagerly awaiting any ‘accidentally’ dropped food. Occasionally the flemur will do a lap around the table, tail brushing their feet as she looks for scraps. 

“Oh good.” She’d nearly forgotten about that, that E.B. would need new supplies. “Wait, where’d you get the money?” She didn't think Guy and Sam's limited income would streach enough for school supplies.

“From your purse.” Sam says, talking around a forkful of food. He swallows. “The envelope labeled ‘E.B.’s School Supplies’. We put the change back.”

She feels like she really should have known. If she checked her purse right now, the envelope would probably be in it with the money inside.

She very carefully does not ask which one of them retrieved the envelope. Or when. 

“We didn’t go clothes shopping though.” E.B. pushes her food around on the plate a little. It’s a habit Michellee had previously done her best to stamp out, but she doesn’t say anything about it now. E.B. takes a quick bite and swallows. “Sam suggested that we might like to do that this weekend? Just the two of us?” 

“We could do that.” She feels strangely relieved. The beginning of school was a minor rite of passage, one that’s always been the two of them. “The classroom walk through and meeting the teachers is tomorrow night, right?” 

“Yup.” E.B. nods, then makes a face, one that Michellee feels wholeheartedly. E.B. gets along with her classmates, mostly. 

It’s the parents that are an issue.

* * *

Meeting the teachers hadn’t gone too badly. They’d dropped her school supplies off, E.B. seemed to like her new teacher, and they liked her. Guy and Sam had tagged along at E.B.’s insistence, and it was hysterical to watch Guy freeze up around anyone smaller than him who wasn’t E.B. And Sam, well. Sam fit right in with the kids.

There’s been some confusion over who Guy and Sam were, but they were so polite and cheerful that no one had outrightly asked, and she was starting to think she’d been nervous over nothing.

“Guy should drive us home.” E.B. insists, hanging from Michellee’s arm as they walk out of the building, playfully batting at the keys in Michellee’s other hand. 

“What? No.” Michellee shakes her head. 

Guy rumbles, both cranky and amused. “Leave me out of this.” 

“Oh. Michellee.” A snooty voice draws her attention away from their group. “I see you brought your _boyfriend_ along.” 

The word ‘boyfriend’ is said with enough sugared venom that it makes Guy’s movement next to her falter. 

Michellee looks over and feels her heart drop. It’s the head of the school’s PTA group, Karen. Michellee’s had a lot of trouble with her over the years, rooted in the woman's stern refusal to believe that Michellee was a widower, or anything other than a disgraced woman.

There’s a reason why Michellee hates school functions and it's standing right there in an orange turtleneck and pearls around her neck. 

“Guy’s not my boyfriend.” 

“We’re not dating.” 

Her and Guy’s words overlap each other, and Michellee glances over to find both Guy and Sam pulling E.B. away from the woman, automatically shielding her from the strange woman with their bodies. 

It’s strangely reassuring. 

“Oh!” Karen places a hand over her heart in a parody of caring. “So you’re just living with a strange man under your roof? Surely that can’t be good for your _child_.” 

And it is then that Michellee remembers that she is talking to one of the noisiest gossips in town, and anything she says will be repeated not only up and down the block, but at PTA meetings as well.

Michellee falters, looking over at Guy and Sam in a panic, because the truth --that she, a single mother, invited two strange men to live with her for no apparent reason-- will ruin what little reputation she still has in the community. Twice over if they find out that Sam had a criminal record.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sam scoffs, taking a step forward with a sense of bravado Michellee doesn’t feel.

Michellee looks over at Guy, trying to see if he knows what Sam’s doing. Guy gives her a concerned look in return, but purposely leans back, acting casual, and silently backing up whatever Sam is doing.

Karen looks down her nose at Sam. “What is?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice, the family resemblance is right there.” Sam motions to Guy, then back at E.B., who has her hands wrapped around Guy’s arm, glaring at Karen. “Not that it’s any of your business, but _Guy_ is Michellee’s _Brother-in-Law_.”

There’s just enough similarity that it’s entirely plausible. E.B. has her father’s nose, which is similar to Guy’s, but not quite the same. Both E.B. and Guy have fur darker than hers, even if E.B. has Michellee’s hair.

It’s so simple. And it’d be far harder for someone to _disprove_ Sam’s claim than prove it. 

“It was a rather large shock to realise that we were family when we ran into each other on the way to Meepville.” Michellee smiles politely. It’s not a lie. 

“I was looking to move, and Michellee’s been kind enough to put us up while looking for a new permanent job.” Guy says, so sweetly it’s like honeyed butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

“Anything for family.” E.B. chirps, adding her own large angelic eyes to the mix. “Right, Mrs. Karen?”

“I see.” Karen looks surprised, but not entirely sold on the whole ‘family’ thing. “And is he your son?” She inquires, pointing to Sam. 

They all turn towards Sam, who looks a little lost, not having threaded himself a role in the web he was spinning.

“Sam’s not a child.” Guy puts a hand on Sam’s hat and tugs on it playfully. “He’s my Partner. Best anyone could ask for.”

There’s a lot of different connotations to the word ‘Partner’, none of which Michellee is interested in expounding on right now. “If you’ll excuse us, Karen.” Michellee says, pulling out her car keys and holding them up. “We have something we need to be doing.”

“Right.” Guy agrees as Sam steals the keys from Michellee’s hand and passing them to Guy, the four of them moving as one away from the PTA lady. “Lovely to meet you.”

“I can drive.” Michellee hisses as they quickly head towards her car. 

“Guy drives faster.” E.B. points out with blunt logic. 

Sam adds his vote. “Also safer.”

“I am a **very** safe driver!” She protests. 

“Safe for you, maybe.” Sam agrees as Guy unlocks the car, the two of them opening the doors for E.B. and Michellee to climb in. “But you cause more accidents in your wake by driving under the speed limit. That makes other drivers get all full of road rage, go swerving around you and boom! They crash into cars and other things.”

“I gave you studies of this last year.” E.B. points out, climbing in the back seat, then budging over so Sam can follow and close the door behind them. “Driving slower than the speed limit is more dangerous to those around you than driving over the speed limit.” 

She vaguely remembers E.B. confronting her with pamphlets. She thinks they ended up in the recycling bin. 

“Seat belts.” Guy reminds everyone, adjusting the rear view mirror so he can see behind them. They’re silent as they fasten the seatbelts around their laps. Once they’re secure, Guy carefully backs out and begins driving home. It’s faster than Michellee’s usual speed, but she can’t honestly argue that he’s any less safe than she is. 

“So.” E.B. pipes up, sounding utterly delighted. “Does this mean that I should be calling you ‘Uncle Guy’?” 

Guy’s gaze flickers from the street to Michellee for the briefest second, about the amount of time it takes to check the side mirrors. “Only if you want to.” Guy informs her seriously.

E.B. lets out a happy squeak, bouncing in her seat with a surprising amount of energy for the lack of sugar she’s eaten recently.

Guy looks very confused and a little concerned as Sam laughs in the backseat. “All right, then.” He finally settles on.

* * *

Michellee goes to bed that night, expecting to have nightmares. She's surprised to find she only wakes up once in the night, to find Florence on the pillow next to her, checking up on her. 

Florence squeaks at her, then nuzzles the top of her head, chirping in such a way as if to say that everything is okay. 

It works. Michellee closes her eyes again and falls back asleep almost instantly, having good dreams.

* * *

“I had a thought.” Michellee comments the next morning, pulling Guy to the side as E.B. and Sam sing something from a cartoon in the kitchen. Logically, she knows that Sam is an adult and capable of living on his own, but frequently that’s hard to remember such as when he enthusiastically sings off key.

“Oh?” He looks interested. 

“It wouldn’t be weird for my family to live with me.” She says, then smiles. “ _Brother-in-Law_.”

A silly grin crosses his face, happy, proud, and almost giddy all at once. That’s one concern out of the way, and it’s a perfect alibi. His grin fades, replaced by a concerned look. “It still brings up the question, where would Sam and I sleep?” 

“I’d originally thought we could maybe turn my office into a bedroom for the two of you.” Michellee admits. Which is not entirely correct, she’d originally thought that maybe Guy would end up sharing her bed, but that’s not going to happen now. “But I think that would be too crowded.”

Not enough space for everyone to have a chance to have their own area or territory. 

“I had the same thought.” Guy admits. “Possibly convert part of the living room?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of extending.” Michellee gestures to the backyard. “There’s room enough to build something back there. Think your skills are up to that?” 

Several emotions flicker across Guy’s face, and then he shakes his head. “No.” He finally sighs, a resigned look on his face. “If I tried to do it, the room wouldn't expand, it would explode. But I know someone who has the skill.” 

“Oh?”

The corner of his lips comes up in a crooked, rueful grin. “Mind if I make an out of area call? I have some grovelling to do.”

* * *

She’s been itching to ask how it went all day, but Guy keeps himself scarce until they finally all sit down for dinner. “How’d the phone calls go?” She asks as soon as they start dishing out the food. 

Guy’s lips curve in such a way that she can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. “They’ll be here this weekend.”

She remembers him trying to explain things on the way back from when she'd first saw where he and Sam sleep. He loves his family and his family loves him, but that doesn’t stop the little niggling voices from telling him that they hate him, that they’re only tolerating him, that he’s a failure for not living up to their expectations. 

“That soon?” She would have thought it would take longer than that. “How long will it take, do you know?” 

“They’ll be gone by Sunday evening.” Guy snorts. “Having a brother who is a Mover is handy sometimes.” 

Sam and E.B. are looking back and forth across the table, like it’s a tennis match. “What’s going on?” Sam finally ventures, his expression placid, but there’s a touch of nerves in his voice that makes it waver slightly. 

Guy looks over at Sam and smiles, just a touch mischievously. 

“It’s a surprise.” Michellee deadpans, covering her urge to smile by taking a bite. “A good one.” 

Sam glances back and forth, his lower lip sticking out just a bit in a worried pout.

“‘Mover who is a brother’-?” E.B. muses. “Wait. Are we getting to meet Guy’s _family_?!” 

“Oh!” Sam’s eyes go wide and he stands up in his chair, leaning over the table to wave a pointed finger in Guy’s face. “OH! Your Mom is a **Homemaker**!!!”

“Got it in one.” Guy looks smug. “I gave her the measurements of the house here, and she’s going to make an addition with leftover supplies from various jobs. Helps clear out some of her storage, and the house gets big enough that Sam and I can move in without all of us tripping over each other.” 

“Seriously?” Sam squeaks. 

“Yeah.” Guy nods. “Had to do a _lot_ of explaining, and a bit of grovelling, but yes. I mean. If you’re all okay with that.” 

“Oh my gosh.” E.B. breathes, looking excited. 

Sam makes a noise like a tea kettle whistling, then launches himself across the table at Guy. Guy rocks backwards in his chair at the impact, nearly toppling them over, but he manages to keep upright, and grabs on to a very snuzzly Sam all at the same time. 

And then E.B. throws herself at Guy as well, and the chair finally goes backwards, the three of them landing in a pile on the floor. “We’re okay.” Guy gets out, his voice like a croak as the other two giggle. 

Michellee stands up just in time to see Florence decide that she must join in, laying down on Guy’s face. 

With that, there’s really no other option than to sit back down and _laugh_.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

“THEY’RE HERE!” E.B. shouts from the front room. 

Michellee flinches, rubbing her head. She’s got a minor headache from worrying about this weekend. “I’m pretty sure I taught her better than to shout in the house.”

“Probably.” Sam comments, tucked under Guy’s arm. “It’s the excitement.”

She’s not the only one nervous. Guy seems to remember that he’s carrying Sam around and glances down with a surprised expression. “Will you be all right while I check?” He asks, looking like he wants to run out the front door instead of puttering around the kitchen he’s been doing. 

“Yeah.” Sam waves him off. “You got this, big guy.”

Guy nods, crouching down to set down Sam, then jogs off. Sam twines and untwines his fingers together, clearly uneasy. Which was probably why Guy was carrying him around again. 

“What are you nervous about?” Michellee asks. “I thought you’d met Guy’s family before.” Where has she hasn't and has little idea of what to expect, which is driving her anxiety up the wall.

She don't know what she's going to do if they hate her.

“I did.” Sam nods, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down. “They’re really nice people, you’ll love them. It’s just… the last time they saw me, I was escaping over a wall with Guy and Mr. Jenkins while McWinkle shouted that we both knew that I wasn’t who I said I was.” 

“Do they-?” Michellee wasn’t sure how much Guy has told his family about their adventure. 

“I don’t know if they know I was conning them all at the time.” Sam says quietly, staring down at the table, his fingers silently beating against it in a nervous tempo.

“Ohhh.” Michellee nods, reaching out and putting her hand over Sam’s, giving it a squeeze. Yeah. Suddenly Sam’s nervousness made more sense, not knowing one way or the other. He flashed her a small hesitant smile in thanks. 

“WHERE’S MY GUY?!” A sweet voice bellows from the front of the house and Sam flinches away, turning sideways so he was pressed into the back of the chair, his limbs curled up tight. 

“Mom! Dude!” Guy calls back, and there’s no fear or hesitation in his voice at all. 

Sam clears his throat, uncurling. “Come on.” He says, glancing at her, then sliding out of the chair. Michellee swallows and rises, following him to the front room. Guy is hugging a large pink Knox, and she can see some of the family resemblance in their face. Behind them is an even bigger purple Knox with a bowling shirt and a pompadour. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” The pink one is saying, holding Guy out at arm’s reach. “You look better, I’m so happy!” 

“Thanks.” Guy says, and there’s a bit of a bashful rumble. “Mom, you remember-”

“Sam!” Sam is picked up and squeezed, much to his bug-eyed surprise. “Good to see you again! Guy told me you got Mr. Jenkins home!” 

“We did.” Sam grunts, sounding winded and awed. 

Guy just rolls his eyes and gives the other Knox, whom Michellee is assuming is his brother, a quick backslapping hug. It turns into a minor wrestling match, Guy ending up in a headlock as his brother whispers something in his ear. 

She has just enough time to wonder if Guy needs a rescue when suddenly the whirling dervish that is his Mom turns her attention on Michellee. Michellee tries not to jump, holding out a hesitant hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Am-I."

“Oh, you can call me ‘Mom’.” Guy’s Mom waves a dismissive hand, before enveloping Michellee in a hug. Michellee registers the smell of candied fruit and wood shavings before she’s released. Mom smiles reassuringly. “Everyone does.”

“Okay?” Michellee squeaks. She’s not quite sure how to deal with this much…. matronly energy suddenly being directed her way. Her Mother and Grandmother weren’t nearly this affectionate, and it feels somewhat strange. 

Not bad, but more like feeling a bit off centre. 

“Mom.” Guy says, pulling his mother’s attention away from Michellee, and she takes a deep breath of relief. “This is E.B..” 

“... Hi.” E.B. breathes, looking at Guy’s Mom as if seeing something amazing. Mom turns and looks at E.B., the two just staring at each other for a minute. 

Then Mom holds her arms out in silent offering and E.B. practically throws herself at the other woman. “Oh.” Mom breathes, wrapping her arms around E.B.’s slight frame. “You can call me Grandma. Or Grammy, if you’d prefer.” 

“Hi, Grammy.” E.B. says, burying her face into Mom’s neck ruff, more eagerly than Michellee would have expected. 

Mom cuddles E.B. with a happy hum. “Guy! I’m making it official, we’re adopting them.”

Guy sighs and rolls his eyes, somehow managing to be long-suffering and fond all at the same time. “That’s fine.” He rumbles, sounding like this was just what he expected to happen. “Just remember I got them first.” 

“Pish-posh.” Mom waves it off, turns to inform them, still holding on E.B. “You’re all coming and staying over for the holidays. It’s a time for family and you’re part of the family now.”

“Okay?” Michellee questioningly agrees. The holidays were usually a quiet time for her and E.B., a chance for peace and reflection.

… How many siblings did Guy say he had? 

“Sam, I’m putting you in charge of making sure you and the other three arrive.” Mom says breezily, walking off with E.B. still clinging to her like a monkanzee. “We’ll figure out the details later.”

“You got it.” Sam snaps off a jaunty salute, then gives a little giggle, practically skipping as he follows Mom towards the house. 

Michellee looks over at Guy, watching it all with a vaguely amused air. “Yeah.” He drawls. “They’re like that.” 

“All of them?” Michellee squeaks.

“All of them.” Guy deadpans. “At last count, it was Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, my two brothers, Mann and Dude, this is Dude by the way, and Dude’s four kids, all under one roof.”

She can’t imagine living with that many people. 

“That’s not including Grand-Uncle Guyverson and Great Aunt Guyvereen.” Guy pauses, giving her a dry look. “You can guess which one I’m named after. Anyway. They’ve got kids and grand-kids in Stovepipe who come over on the holidays too.” 

Her head spins trying to figure out how they all fit in one house. “Are you sure they’re going to have the room to have us stay over?” 

“Oh, absolutely. If worse comes to worst, we can kick the kids out to the treehouse and take over their beds.” Guy waves it off. “We used to do that when I was a kid. Part of the reason I built it up as much as I did.” 

“And the other reason?” 

He snorts. “I like my quiet. Always have. The only way to get it was to make it myself. The others never really understood.” 

Michellee tries to imagine living with that many people, jostling and bumping into each other. Just living with three others is sometimes overwhelming to her, she’s grateful that they leave her alone in the office to paint. 

“I don’t think I can understand living with that many people, wonderful as they might be.” Michellee shakes her head and Guy laughs. 

“You’ll see.” He smiles, then offered her his arm. “Come on, watching Mom work is a real treat. She really is amazing.”

“Alright.” Michellee smiles back, taking Guy’s arm. 

“Glad you finally remembered that.” Dude interrupts, slapping Guy’s other shoulder. “Come on, I didn’t move all this for nothing.”

* * *

Guy’s Mom is more amazing than he described. 

Michellee and E.B. stay out of the way as directed, E.B. leaning against Michellee as they watch, Florence in her arms. 

The first thing she does is measure and pour the concrete slab that is the basis of the foundation. Dude just sits back and watches as Guy disappears into the basement and pipes appear from the ground just before the concrete reaches it, popping up like plants growing from the mud. 

Then the walls begin. It’s like Mom waves her fingers and weaves the wood skeleton of the addition together. Guy flows in and out of them, tossing wires around and threading them through the growing walls. A clawfoot bathtub and a sink are tossed into the growing structure, and Michellee realises that the pipes are the start of a bathroom.

Then the second floor starts, Guy climbing on top and hanging upside down as he does the wiring, Mom working around him. It’s almost like a dance, they’re never where the other is, somehow missing each other without saying a word or missing a beat. 

The second floor doesn’t get walls in the traditional sense. Dude brought stacks of windows in their frames, and Mom puts them together like a giant puzzle, turning the top floor into a giant glass conservatory, sealing the frames together to keep the weather out.

“Come on, Sam!” Guy calls, carrying a bucket of paint and two roller brushes on a mop handles. Sam jumps to it, the two of them painting the new exterior walls the same white as the rest of the house. Mom and Dude climb out on the roof, building it out in such a way it looks like the addition was always there. 

“Woooow.” E.B. breathes as it seems like Sam and Guy finish in minutes, disappearing inside with the paint. 

They come out minutes later, flecks of white paint in their fur, looking pleased with themselves. Mom and Dude come off the rooftop, Mom clapping her hands together, knocking the dust off of them. 

As if summoned, a man wearing overalls and carrying a clipboard appears. “The addition is up to code. Here’s your certificates.” He hands them over to Mom, then disappears. 

“Well, that was a nice morning’s work.” Mom comments with a satisfied look.

Michellee looks at where the stack of materials had been, at the new extension of her house, then down at her watch. 

It hasn’t even been two hours.

“... Anyone up for lunch?” Michellee offers brightly.

* * *

“Let the boys do their thing.” Mom waves a hand, setting the teapot down on the table with a happy smile. “Gives Guy a chance to show off a little bit.”

Guy is teaching Sam and E.B. how to build beds in the backyard. Since Guy’s not actually ‘building’, but teaching, the chances of things suddenly going ka-boom are very low. Even so, she’s keeping an ear out for any explosions.

Theoretically, the room that was her office/studio will become Sam’s bedroom, and the new addition will be Guy’s. 

Michellee doesn’t mention that the bedposts look like they’ll slot together to become bunk beds. 

She’s not entirely sure what Dude is doing. He appears to be napping in the sun, but every so often he says something that makes Guy’s face look like he just bit into a lemon. Michellee would love to like Guy’s brother, he did move everything for the extension here and helped them build it, but the way Dude constantly needles Guy annoys her. 

Sam’s got a calculated expression on his face, so Michellee is content to let it go for the moment. 

“Besides.” Mom smiles at Michellee, motioning to the empty chair on the other side. “It gives me a chance to meet my Daughter-In-Law.”

Michellee hesitates. “I…. You know we’re not actually-?”

“Pish.” Mom waves it off. “I know how many children I gave birth to. That doesn’t make you any less my Daughter-In-Law.” 

Mom’s expression turns somber. “And… It’s nice to have one again. Ever since Dude’s…. Well. She’s not with us anymore, and I miss having someone to chat with.”

She hadn’t considered that Mom might want to know her for Mom’s own sake too. “I, um.” Michellee sits down with a nervous smile. “I haven’t really… done this before-?”

“Sitting and chatting over tea?” Mom looks confused. 

“My mother never would have done this.” Michellee picked up a teacup in her hands, fiddling with it. “She’s not in our lives. Before Guy and Sam, it was just E.B. and I. And E.B. was so young… I never really had the time.” 

She grimaces. Or the social circle. Not many people wanted anything to do with a single working mother who had arrived in town under ‘mysterious circumstances’. 

“Oh. Oh my dear.” Mom reaches across the table, brushing her fingers across Michellee’s knuckles, just a small pat. “I think I understand now.” 

Michellee glances up, wondering what what Mom ‘understands’. 

“You’re just like Guy.” Mom smiles sympathetically, pouring tea into her cup, and then offering it to Michellee. Michellee holds her cup out, watching as the steaming russet liquid spills and swirls into her cup, tiny bits of leaves floating around. “You’re both very smart, very intelligent, but used to being on your own.” 

Michellee blinks, staring at Mom in surprise. That…isn’t wrong. 

“That’s not a bad thing.” Mom continues reassuringly. “It just means, I probably came on a bit strong, didn’t I?”

She tries not to flinch, but doesn’t think she does a good job of covering it up if the amused smirk on Mom’s face is any indication. 

“It’s alright.” Mom’s expression is gentle. “I’m sorry for that. I’m just ever so curious about the person who caught my Guy’s attention. I knew that whoever they were, they had to be amazing.” 

Michellee ducks her head, blushing. “He showed me the painting that you made of him and Sam. You’re very talented yourself.” 

She wondered if Mom realised the symbolism of the imagery she had painted, Guy and Mr. Jenkins reaching out to give the spark of life to Sam. It's not entirely wrong, but in many other ways… 

“Pfft.” Mom waves it away. “Guy mentioned you paint?” 

“Yes.” Michellee curls her fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth. It isn’t her usual blend of tea, but it has a nice fragrance to it. Something new. “I can show you if you’d-”

“Later.” Mom leans back in the chair, getting comfortable. “Tell me about them first.” 

Michellee hesitates for a moment, just a moment, then starts talking, answering Mom's questions, asking her own questions back. 

It’s… surprisingly nice.

* * *

Dude’s pompadour somehow magically becomes green. 

No one seems to know how it happened. But it shuts Dude up, if only because he’s off sulking. 

Michellee doesn’t say anything but she does offer Sam a stealthy high five, and both he and E.B. slap her hand back.

* * *

Sleep is a little elusive that night. 

Mom is sleeping in E.B.’s room, E.B. is sleeping with Michellee, Sam and Guy are in their new room, and Dude is on the couch in the living room. Florence is… wherever flemurs sleep. Michellee’s not entirely sure, but thinks she usually splits the night between E.B. and Michellee. 

She’s not used to sharing a bed anymore, and E.B. sleeps like a Pigorangutoad, all spread out and taking over the mattress. On top of that, the house just feels _full_ in a way she’s not used to. It’s a little strange and unsettling. 

It’s almost midnight when she gives up, taking her teacup off the nightstand and heading downstairs to make a cup of something soothing to help her sleep. Mint, maybe. Or chamomile. 

The light’s on in the kitchen when she gets down there, and for a moment she wonders if Guy is having issues sleeping too. It’d be nice to chat with him for a bit. 

Except, as she gets closer, she realises that it’s more than one voice talking softly in the room, which makes her slow her steps and strain her ears to hear. 

“-I’m sorry.” Guy is saying quietly. “I know… I know this isn’t _normal_ -”

“Oh, Sweetie.” Mom cuts him off, sounding the opposite of concerned. “You’ve never been normal. And that’s not a bad thing.” 

“I know.” Guy agrees, a weary edge to his voice. “It’s just that, Dude thinks I’m taking advantage of you and the family.” 

“Don’t worry about what Dude said.” Mom corrects. Michellee peers around the doorway to find Guy drooping slightly, leaning towards his Mom. She cradles the side of his face with one hand, a loving smile on her face. “Remember the few times you got grounded and he complained because your punishment wasn’t being sent to your room, you had to stay in the public areas with the rest of the family?”

Guy nods, pressing his face into her palm. 

“Neither Dude nor Mann understood that it _was_ a punishment for you. For them, isolation in their room would be a punishment, but you relished your privacy. So I had to get creative with you.” She gives him a wicked grin, to which Guy makes a face. 

“Both Dude and Mann live in my house, under my roof, rent free with the kids.” Mom continues. “Stovepipe is their home, and neither has cared to venture outside of it. But you, out of all my boys, you always had the biggest heart. You fell in love with the world, and it just… didn’t always love you back.” 

Guy flinches, but doesn't pull away from her grasp.

“It doesn’t surprise me in the least that what you needed was more people to share their hearts with you.” Mom says in a brisk no-nonsense tone. “And you found some good ones. I wouldn’t refuse you a home any more than I would refuse Dude and Mann. Yes, your situation is unorthodox, but it works and makes all of you happy, so I’ll not have anyone say a word against it, do you hear?” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Guy rumbles, leaning down to hug her. He’s so tall, it’s almost comical watching him curve enough to rest his head on her shoulder, but there’s something sweet about them hugging. It’s something that she wishes she had with her mother. Michellee steps back, leaning against the wall. 

“Any time.” Mom promises.“I feel a bit like we failed you, truth be told. Your Dad and I taught you to try, but I think we forgot to teach you it’s okay to fail too. And you’ve been struggling with this for a while.” 

“It’s my fault too.” Guy mutters. “I didn’t want to worry you. Especially with everyone else doing so well.”

“Oh, honey. It’s not like this family doesn’t have a history of taking a while to find their niche. Did you know that Grandpa used to make Molehills before he started moving Mountains?”

“What?! No!” Guy chuckles in disbelief. 

“Oh, yes. It’s true.” Mom laughs. “Before I became a homebuilder, I used to sling plates.” 

“That explains why you were able to keep up with our appetites.” Michellee can hear the smile in Guy’s voice. 

“Oh, you.” Mom says fondly. “Everyone in this family is extraordinary, it just takes some of us longer than others to find how. So inventing didn’t work. Try something new.”

“I am.” Guy whispers softly. “It’s scary, but… I think it’ll work.” 

“That’s my boy.” And Michellee can hear the love in her voice. “Now don’t forget to get some rest tonight, no staying up late thinking about what-ifs.”

“Sam won’t let me.” Guy chuckles. “It’s like he has an extra sense for when I start to get too broody and kicks me in the head.” 

Michellee wasn’t sure if Mom knew about Sam and Guy’s previous sleeping arrangement, the two bundled together sharing a bed, but the mental image made her muffle a snort. She wondered if Sam was as restless of a sleeper as E.B. was. 

“Such a good boy.” Mom praises. “He’s good for you.” 

“I know.” Guy easily agrees.

“Good. Tell him that. That he’s part of your family.” 

“I will.” There’s a slight pause. “Mom?”

“Yes, Guy?”

Guy hesitates. “...Why didn’t you tell Sam to call you ‘Mom’?”

There’s a longer pause this time. “This is going to sound silly, but… It didn’t feel right.” Mom sounds regretful. “There was something about the way he did his best to make us like him, even while keeping a distance. And he was so quick at the ‘Mrs Am-I’, it made me wonder if he was uncomfortable with the idea of calling me ‘Mom’. Maybe someday.”

“Maybe someday.” Guy agrees hopefully, then yawns. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“You’re welcome. Sleep well, honey.” 

“You too.” 

Michellee holds her breath and Mom’s footsteps lead away, towards the living room instead of the bedrooms. 

“Alright, you can come out now.” Guy’s voice is rough and amused, and for a heart stopping moment, Michellee feels like she’s been caught. She slowly peers around the corner, to find Guy staring down at Sam, crawling out of one of the cupboards.

“Yanno, I used to con all the cash from sweet ladies like your Mom all the time.” Sam says blithely, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Guy crosses his arms, raising a grumpy skeptical eyebrow. “Really?”

Michellee can’t see Sam’s expression, but he ducks his head. “So maybe not _all_ their cash.” He mutters. 

That gets a chuckle from Guy, a fond look on his face. He uncrosses his arms, playfully tilting Sam’s hat forward. “Come on, partner.” Guy motions for Sam to follow him. “You heard the lady.” 

“... She’s a smart one, your Mom.” Sam says, a touch hesitantly as they start to head to the front of the house. 

“She really is.” Guy agrees, turning the lights off as they leave. 

Michellee stays a moment more in the darkness, then looks down at her her empty teacup. 

She doesn’t have the need for a cup of calming tea anymore. She turns and climbs up the stairs to her room, where she sleeps soundly, even with E.B. shoving a foot in her face.

* * *

Michellee invites Mom to join her and E.B. to get clothes for school. E.B. is over the moon, showing off suggested outfits with a bounce in her step that Michellee’s never seen before. 

But it’s nice to chat with Mom while E.B. tries on clothes, Mom making occasional helpful suggestions. Like getting her daughter a pair of overalls, so she has clothes specifically to get dirty in. 

Part of Michellee wants to protest that E.B. shouldn’t be getting dirty, but it’d be nice not to worry about E.B. ripping her dresses as she helps Guy and Sam build stuff. Or when she wrestles in the mud with Florence. 

One benefit of having Florence around, E.B.’s no longer looking at every creature in their path as a potential pet. Really, the chickeraffee should have been an obvious sign that E.B. was long past ready for a companion. 

It’s a bonding experience, one that makes her wonder what life would have been like if she and her Mother still talked. 

Then she tries to imagine her Mother recommending overalls for a girl to get dirty in and the image falls apart. It’s not what proper girls do. Proper girls are neat and tidy, they’re decorative, seen and not heard.

She buys a second set of overalls for E.B..

* * *

Dude’s ready to leave when they get back, grumbling about missing his own kids. They say good-bye, E.B. and Michellee both hugging Mom tight, phone numbers exchanged and promises to call. 

Then Dude grabs Mom and… there’s really no other word other than ‘ _moves_ ’. She’s not sure how he does it, but he moves Mom and they disappear, heading back home to Stovepipe Junction. 

And then it’s just the four of them, five with the flemur. 

Michellee looks at her family, wondering what to do next. 

Sam raises his hand. “Everyone want to go by themselves for a little while and meet back up for dinner?” 

“Green Eggs and Ham?” E.B. asks eagerly. 

“Of course.” Sam grins. “Wouldn’t be a celebration otherwise.” 

Of that, they can all agree.

* * *

In the sunlight of her new studio, Michellee paints an ocean scape for herself. 

The canvas is long and wide, looking like a window to a vibrant and colourful underwater scape, the rich royal blue sea filled with brightly hued corals and dancing fish. There’s a chickeraffee on the bottom, watching the sea creatures go by with a happy grin. 

It’s not _quite_ the sea that she and Guy watched while on the undersea boat to Meepville, but there are some similarities. 

But it looks nothing like the sea she painted when her husband died, and for that she is profoundly grateful.

* * *

Monday brings the first day of school, and Michellee is more of a wreck about it than anyone else in the house. E.B’s bearing with it with amused grace, while Sam and Guy hang out in the background, making occasional perplexed noises and shoving food in their general direction. 

“Mom.” E.B. finally says, grabbing Michellee’s hands. “It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine. Okay?”

“I know, but…” Michellee tries to brush off the purple hair off E.B.’s pink dress. “How are you _covered_ in this much flemur fur? Were you carrying Florence around like a doll?”

“I just put this on.” E.B. sounds more confused than concerned. “Florence has been in the kitchen the entire time, eating breakfast.”

As if summoned by her name, Florence lifts her head up from her food dish with a questioning noise, cheeks bulging with food. 

“It’s all over your clothing too.” Sam helpfully points out, then ducks behind the table so only his hat is visible. 

And Michellee has not been snuggling Florence, unless one counted while sleeping. Now that she’s looking, there’s some purple strands on Sam’s hat too.

Michellee is reminded that they still haven’t found the flemur’s owner. She’s seen the posters up, so she knows that they were actively looking, but they haven’t heard anything from anyone missing a pet. 

E.B. smiles angelically. “It’s a mystery.” She chirps. 

Michellee narrows her eyes. “Hmmm.” 

“You’re both going to be late.” Guy finally says, the voice of reason. He shoves two paper bags at them, kisses Michellee on the temple, E.B. on the top of the head, then gestures them out the door. “Go. Have a good day.” 

“You too. Bye, Sam!” E.B. grins broadly at Guy, then takes Michellee’s hand, leading her to the door. 

“Later, E.B.” Sam calls from where he’s still hiding at the kitchen table. “Learn lots!”

“I will.” She says happily, then turns her grin up at Michellee. “I like having them here.” She confides.

“Good.” Michellee says absently. She blinks, realising that they just managed to sidestep her brain melting down, and gives herself a shake, smiling at her daughter as she grabs her keys. “I like having them here too.”

* * *

“How was school, sweetie?” Michellee asks. She’s been a little nervous about E.B.'s first day, if there’d be any backlash against the whole ‘Brother-In-Law’ thing, but so far nothing has come of it. 

“It was good.” E.B. smiles. “Today we had to draw our families. It’s something we did in younger grades, but we learned about different family types and groups. Wait a sec!” 

She dashed away from the table, and Michellee bit back her automatic response that E.B. should excuse herself from the table first. E.B. has manners when she needs them, she reminds herself. 

And it’s nice to see her daughter comfortable in her own house in a way she wasn’t before. 

She exchanges a look with Guy and Sam, who look as nervous and curious as to what E.B. drew as Michellee feels. In the past, it’d always been two lone figures, just E.B. and Michellee.

Michellee was usually recognisable as being slightly larger, and the one with a frown. 

“Look!” E.B. sprints into the room, carrying a piece of paper aloft, a giant grin on her face. She slapped it down on the table for them to all see. “I drew _us_!” She exclaims, delighted. 

Her daughter is clearly in the middle, her hair a riot of multihued curls. She’s holding a purple snake in one arm which is recognisable as Florence. E.B.’s other hand is holding the person next to her, who looks a lot like Michellee, same coloured dress and hat, but has a happy smile on on their face. 

Standing on E.B.’s other side is clearly Guy and Sam, blockly marked out in crayon, fingers touching but not overlapping in a way that signifies holding hands.

“I wanted to draw Mr. Jenkins.” E.B. confesses. “But I didn’t want to have to explain why there’s a chickeraffe in my picture. So I’ll add him in later.” 

“It’s perfect, sweetie.” Michellee smiles, and realises that she’s tearing up a little. It’s so different from the past years, it’s so full and happy. She wipes her eyes, then takes the handkerchief Sam offers without a word and does it again. “Did anyone say anything?” 

“Just Tommy across the street.” E.B. shrugs and picks up her fork again. “He said he was happy that I had a bigger family now because I wasn’t lonely anymore.” 

“That’s… That’s very true.” Michellee says. Guy finds her hand under the table and she holds on, grateful for their silent support. 

“I think this should go on the fridge.” Sam says, beaming at E.B. 

“Or we could frame it.” Guy offers, picking up his fork with his other hand and continuing to eat. “That could be this weekend’s project to learn how to make.” 

“Oh! Can we?!” E.B. lights up. 

“Of course.” Michellee agrees. “There’s space in the hallway to put it.” 

They all agree, talking about little details and she tunes it out for a moment, just letting the words drift passed her. 

She never thought she could be overwhelmed with happiness. And yet. Here she is.

* * *

“Bringing your own lunch?” One of the typists asks as Michellee sits down to eat in the cafeteria with her brown bagged lunch. She usually buys her lunch here. In the past it was a chance to enjoy having a hot meal she hadn't made, and it's just turned into a habit by this point. 

There’s a couple of snickers, and someone makes a comment about her not being able to afford lunch now. She’s used to ignoring the whispers and the snide jabs, but now she’s got people at her back, and can do more than sit in silence and take it with a smile. 

“My Brother-in-Law made it for me.” Michellee smiles sweetly, unwrapping a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, peering at the filing. Leftover tofu meatloaf. No wonder he’d made so much last night. “It’s so nice having men around the house who cook. There's nothing like coming home to a warm meal on the stove.” 

There’s been great strides made in the past several years for equality, getting women out of the house and the kitchen, but it’s slow going. And she knows for a fact that none of her colleagues have someone willing to make them food. 

When she bites into the sandwich, it tastes a bit like victory.

* * *

“Okay, so you do this… This… And then _this_.” E.B. says with a voice of concentration, a handclap accompanying each ‘this’. 

“You got it.” Sam’s cheerful voice agrees. “The next part is…”

Michellee leans out the door to see what they’re doing, it sounds like one of the old clapping games she used to do when she was E.B.’s age. She can’t imagine they’ve changed that much since she was a child, although since Sam grew up in a different area, there might be different regional ones.

Instead, she finds Sam and E.B. both standing on one foot, doing what looks like thumb wrestling with their toes. 

“Hi, Mom!” Michellee grins. “Sam’s teaching me a secret handshake!” 

“With his toes-?” Michellee questions. 

“Well, it doesn’t _have_ to be.” Sam shrugs, then thinks it over. “I suppose you could thumb wrestle, but this way is more fun.” 

“Thumb-wrestle? _Wait a gosh darn minute_.” The sound of pots and pans clanging together echo out from the kitchen as Guy storms out, pointing a finger at Sam. “You’re teaching her the secret handshake for how to get into my tree house!” 

“Well, yeah.” Sam agrees guileless. “How else is she going to know? I didn’t want her getting to your parent’s house and then not being able to get in despite all your nieces and nephews knowing how.” 

“Yeah, but.” Guy’s shoulders came down in a slouch. “I was looking forward to teaching it to her before we visited.” He sulks. Michellee bites her lip to keep from laughing. 

“Well, now we’ve got a cool new handshake to greet each other with.” Sam snaps his fingers at them and grins. 

E.B. snaps her fingers back at Sam before looking up at Guy. “You can test me later to make sure I got it right.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Guy sighs, then shrugs. “Gotta make sure Sam got it right after all.” 

“Speaking of the handshake, Guy.” Sam grins, and there’s a mischievous sparkle to it that immediately piques Michellee’s curiosity. “I had some questions on your thought process when you made that. Like, the butt-slap.”

“ _ **No**_.” Guy rumbles forbiddingly, then marches back into the kitchen to finish dinner. 

“You probably shouldn’t tease him about that.” E.B. informs Sam primly. “It’s rude.”

Sam looks angelic. “But it’s such a big-”

“ _SAM._ ” 

Michellee just shakes her head and goes back upstairs to paint. She loves them, she honestly does, but they’re all crazy.

* * *

There’s a little bit of green eggs sitting left in the frying pan. Just a bit of the whites, cooked to crispy perfection. 

Michellee looks around, then almost guiltily, picks it up and pops it in her mouth. She hasn’t eaten eggs since E.B. was born, deciding that sticking to vegetables was safer than the various germs and potential contamination that meat carried. 

… It’s delicious. Just a little crunchy, buttery, with just a slight taste of salt to it. 

She eyes the pan, checking to see if there’s any more left in there, but she'd taken the last piece. 

She might have to see about reintroducing eggs into her diet if they’re that good. 

It might be worth the little bit of risk.

* * *

“Hey, Michellee?” Sam knocks on her studio door, hovering in the doorway. He hasn’t visited her while she was painting since the night he admitted he was behind her last art theft, and it’s enough to get her attention. 

“Hi, Sam. Come on in. What’s up?” She asks, wiping her cheek with the back of a hand. She’s pretty sure she’s smearing blue across her face, but that’s part of being an artist, the medium goes everywhere. 

As long as she doesn’t mix up her drinking water and her paint water again for the next couple of days, she’ll be ahead of the game. 

“I was wondering if I could borrow some stuff for a couple of hours.” He says, with the bright sparkle that she remembers from when they first met. “I’ll bring it back without any damage, promise.”

That’s an interesting request. “What are you looking to borrow?”

“Your most recent sketchbook.” He gestures to where it’s sitting in a pile, then across the room. “And that painting of me and Mr. Jenkins.” 

That’s… not at all what she was expecting. “What are you going to do with them?”

He grins, a wide grin that takes up most of his face. “Fix something.” 

Michellee hesitates. She doesn’t want to give up her art, it feels private. It used to be public, her pride and joy for all to see, but her husband’s death changed all that. 

She’s not even sure if Guy has seen the painting of the oak. 

But… Both Guy and Sam have been serious about being Fixers. And if nothing else, she’s curious about what it is Sam thinks he can fix with her sketchbook and the painting. 

And… Michellee _wants_ to trust Sam. Here’s a perfect opportunity to show she can. 

“Alright.” She puts the paint brush down and grabs the sketchbook she’s been drawing in lately, the mix of old and new paintings, offering it to him. He nods in thanks and puts it in his briefcase. She doesn’t remember him coming in with it, but that means very little when it comes to Sam. 

“I don’t think the painting is going to fit in there.” She comments, amused. 

“For that, I think I’m going to need to borrow a sheet as well.” Sam muses, tapping a finger to his lips. Michellee gestures for him to help himself, she thinks they’ve got more bedding in the studio as impromptu drop cloths than they do in the house to sleep on. 

He flashes her a grin, and then is moving nearly too fast for her to follow, grabbing a spare sheet and wrapping it around the long tall painting before she can formulate a question about what he's doing. 

“Thanks!” Sams calls, pausing at the door to wave at her, briefcase and painting balanced in such a way that shouldn’t be possible but somehow is, and then he’s gone, as if she hallucinated the whole thing. 

Feeling slightly off balance, she wanders downstairs, to find E.B. holding a jar of peanut butter, a confused look on her face. Florence is at her feet, chewing contentedly on something. “Mom-?” E.B. asks, drawing the word out as if hesitating on asking a question. 

“Did Sam just go by here with a briefcase and one of my paintings wrapped in a sheet?” Michellee ventures. 

E.B. nods, a curious tilt to her head.

“Okay then.” Michellee runs a hand down her face. Not a hallucination then. She shakes her head and claps her hands together, changing her train of thought. “PB and J for lunch?” She asks brightly.

“Peanut Butter and Banana.” E.B. grins. “Grammy recommended it. It’s really good. And Florence likes the banana bits that don’t fit in the sandwich.” 

The flemur lets out a happy squeal at the mention of her name. 

“We’re calling her tonight, right?” Michellee steals a piece of sliced banana from E.B.’s plate, prompting her daughter to laugh and swat playfully at her. 

She never would have thought it, but these bi-weekly calls to Guy's Mom have been amazing. She has someone to ask questions, something she wishes she’d had when E.B. had been smaller and the slightest aberration had been cause for panic and concern. 

Grandparents were something she never thought E.B. might have missed, but it’s clear from the way she’s flourishing under the grandparental affection that she had. Guy's Dad gets on the phone sometimes too, chatting with them about various things. Mom sent photos of them both, and Michellee can't wait to meet Guy's Dad in person.

“Yup. 7 o’clock, on the dot.” E.B. recites dutifully, then takes an overly large bite of her sandwich, cheeks bulging out in delight and peanut butter. 

Michellee laughs and ruffles her daughter’s hair. The urge to tell her daughter to eat neatly is there, but it’s a distant thing. It’s just the two of them, and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of whimsy and fun.

* * *

Sam swans back in before dark, looking pleased with himself as he carts her painting back in. “Here we go _mademoiselle_ , no damage, as promised.”

“Thank you.” Michellee smiles as he carefully sets the wrapped painting down in the living room. “What did you need it for?”

“This.” He pulls a stack of papers out of his briefcase, and offers them to her with a flourish. 

Michellee takes them, giving Sam a confused look before looking them over. 

It’s a contract for a showing in a local art museum. ‘The Jenkins Series’, just the four paintings she’d done after the trip featuring Mr. Jenkins. 

“When they found out that _the_ Michellee was not only local, but had started painting again, they flipped their wigs.” Sam grins, pantomiming the act with his hat. “They only have a small room currently available for viewings, but they’re willing to show any future collections you might have.” 

She flips through the contract. The paintings don’t have to be for sale, but there’s an option if she wants. They’re willing to broker the sales, for a percentage of the final price, of course. 

“You’ll need to see them in person to finalise the details.” Sam’s smile is a little smaller, but very sweet and hopeful. “If you’re interested.” 

Michellee hadn’t even considered showing or displaying her paintings, caught up in the joy of just painting again. But it couldn’t hurt to show them off, get her name back out there again. 

“I am.” Michellee grins. There’s no way she’s selling the four she painted with Mr. Jenkins, they mean too much to her and the household. But the others she’s been doing, the random ones she’s been painting as the mood strikes her, she has no issues with selling those. 

And having a little extra money was always nice. 

If nothing else, they really should buy more bed sheets.

* * *

The gallery is ecstatic. Glurfsburg doesn’t have a lot of popular, much less previously famous artists, and they’re hoping this brings a lot of people to their gallery. 

Guy and Sam carry the canvases in, and the gallery manager helps them hang the images, adjusting the lights on them to make the vibrant colours glow. The red and magenta that tie each image together. The warm golds in Sam's and Guy’s paintings, the royal blues in E.B.'s and Michellee’s. 

And of course, the Chickeraffe hidden in each painting.

She hadn't really set out to make a set of images, but she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried.

The gallery is a little confused by calling it the ‘Jenkins Series’, but they’re willing to go along with it. A little intrigue never hurts. 

They host a party for the grand reveal, Michellee wearing the royal blue dress she’d worn on the failed date with Guy. E.B. wears her usual magenta dress, and adds a blue fabric flower to her hair that Michellee’s pretty sure Sam miracles up somehow from the fabric scraps that weren’t thrown out. 

Guy and Sam both wear ties, brown for Guy and red for Sam. Michellee isn’t sure if they had them previously or got them in respect of their paintings, but it makes her smile. The four of them make a pretty picture together. 

Michellee’s a little surprised to find the local newspaper journalists are there. They take pictures of her with two of the paintings, Sam doing his sneaky best to make sure E.B. is far away from the journalists. It’s subtle, but she’s used to keeping an eye out for her daughter. 

She almost brings it up, but Sam smiles and winks at her and she lets it go, because the next thing she knows a TV reporter has shown up and wants an interview. 

Things turn into a circus, and she’s grateful for Sam and Guy swinging by occasionally with something to eat or drink before disappearing again. Everyone wants to stop and talk to her, either to say hi, or to discuss art. She swears she’s never talked this much before, ever. It’s nothing like the sedate showings she had in Meepville, but rather much more crowded and chaotic. 

It’s the same questions over and over. Why’d she stop painting? Her husband died. Why did she start painting again? She met new family. How does she come up with the ideas for her paintings? The people around her. Why the Jenkins series? It’s an inside joke. How does it feel to be painting again? 

Fan. Yipping. Tastic. 

And suddenly it’s over. People trickle out, and it’s just her, her family, and the gallery staff, who look exhausted but happy. Some of her sketches sold for quite a few more zeros than she expected. The Gallery is getting a percentage, of course, but it’s a tidy sum to bring in. 

Guy drives them home, Michellee happy to watch the world pass by in a blur of colours. E.B. falls asleep in the back, rousing only when Guy picks her up to take her in the house, but even then she’s content to be carried. 

She pulls Sam aside as soon as the doors are shut, kneels down and gives him a giant bone crushing hug. He laughs nervously, but puts his arms around her shoulders. “Thank you?” 

“No, thank _you_.” She corrects. “That was… That was amazing.” She didn’t think she’d ever get to do that again. To share her art with people like that again, and see the joy on their faces. 

“Anything for family.” He says in a quiet voice. 

… _Oh_.

* * *

Her picture is in the morning paper, with a nice article about the gallery showing. There’s no mention of E.B., Guy, or Sam, nor does it touch on the stolen painting. It does mention her work in Meepville though, and a lovely picture of her floral painting in the Hall of Walls. 

E.B. immediately takes scissors to the newspaper, cutting out the article with gleeful intent to either frame it or scrapbook it. It might have worked out better if she’d let Guy finish reading the newspaper first so he could set it down, but they get it worked out. 

Her return to work is almost a let down. Her fingers itch to touch brushes instead of beans, but she’s got practise at doing her job, even as her mind wanders. 

“Everything okay?” Tim asks quietly, as an aside. 

“Better than it’s ever been.” She whispers back, her joy leaking out of her grin, despite her best efforts to contain it. 

He blinks, eyes fluttering for a moment, and then he grins back. “I’m glad.” He says, and then passes her another bean.

* * *

She comes home to the sound of a triumphant shout and someone charging up the basement steps in a hurry.

“I’ve figured out why everything is _covered_ in flemur fur!” Guy proclaims loudly. She heads to the kitchen, to find Guy carrying a shameless looking flemur by the scruff. “Florence was in the machine!”

“The machine?” Sam, appearing from somewhere, echoed while giving Michellee a confused look.

“Which machine?” Michellee requested. 

“The dryer.” Guy growled. “She has figured out how to open the door and has been napping in - and shedding on - all our warm clean clothes. That is why everything is covered in her fur.”

Florence lets out a soft croon, as if confused as to what she might have been doing wrong. 

Michellee sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Guy, is there any way-?” 

“We’ll figure something out.” Guy promises, then storms back down stairs. 

“You know, I remember when this wasn’t my life.” Michellee muses to no one. 

“Yeah.” Sam agrees, rocking on his heels, then beams at her. “But it was a lot more boring then too, wasn’t it?” 

Michellee pauses, looking down at him. And then smiles. “You know? It really was.” She taps the brim of Sam’s hat, making him laugh softly. 

She really can’t think of how it could get any better.

* * *

Except it does.

She is not expecting the new head of SnerZco to show up the next day while she’s counting. The three head honchos are flustered, and everyone’s running around in circles, trying to figure out what this means and why he’s here. 

No one, least of all Michellee, is expecting them to be there for _her_.

“You. Are _THE_ Michellee?” The man carrying the Flertz on a pillow asks. It takes her a moment to recognise him as Snerz’s former Yes-Man.

“It is my name.” She says, confused. 

Several newspapers are miraculously produced from _somewhere_ , one held in her direction as the others are passed around. “ _The_ Michellee who painted these?”

“Oh.” She smiles, taking the newspaper. It’s one of the Meepville papers, an image of her standing in front of Sam’s painting, Guy in the background, having just handed her a drink. “Yes. That’s me.”

She skims the article, noting that it’s very flattering. There’s even a photo of her floral picture in the Hall of Walls, as well as the Sea of Giggly. “May I keep this copy?” She asks. “My daughter is starting a collection.” 

“Of course.” Yes-Man waves it off. 

“If you can paint like THAT.” The lady honcho in the middle proclaims. “What are you doing as a _Bean Counter?!_ ”

“I couldn’t paint after I lost my husband.” Michellee touches the image of the Sea of Giggly on the newspaper. “Meepville is expensive, and I had to support myself and my daughter somehow. Glurfsburg seemed nice, and I could afford to buy a house here, so I moved here. I’ve only started painting again recently.” 

Her husband’s name isn’t in the article, and she wonders if Sam somehow, miraculously, had something to do with that, just to keep the ‘Brother-In-Law’ facade going. But then again, her husband hadn’t been very well known, just one of many acrobats in the troupe. He'd only been special to her. 

“Something to do with the… _gentlemen_ who moved in with you?” One of the Bean Counters in training inquiries, and somehow, she’s not surprised that rumours of that have spread across work either. 

“Yes.” She smiles. “Guy and Sam. They built the canvas frames my recent paintings are on. Guy’s Mom is E.B.’s Grandmother. They’re family.” 

It’s somehow vindicating, the shocked expressions on the faces of all the people who snubbed her due to her fallen reputation, the realisation that they’d gotten everything _wrong_.

The Flertz trills, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. Yes-Man nods, stepping forward. “We’d like to commission a portrait from you.” Yes-Man drones. 

“A portrait?” Michellee echoes, surprised. 

The Flertz flips their enormous mane of hair and points to themselves. 

“To hang in the office, in place of the previous occupant.” The Yes-Man continues. “We’re willing to offer you a year of your current salary in exchange.” 

“A year-?”

“Three years.” Yes-Man deadpans without missing a beat. 

Her head is spinning, that’s more than any of her previous paintings went for - more than any three had gone for combined. “Now wait a minute-” 

“Five times your current yearly salary, and that’s our final offer.”

“Five times my current yearly salary AND first pick at any future painting commissions you are interested in.” Michellee snaps back. 

“Done.” The Flertz leaps forward, shaking Michellee’s hand. She feels a flash of triumph, which quickly fades, replaced by panic. 

What has she just agreed to do?

She’s going to need a canvas big enough for the former SnerZco office, and that’s certainly not going to fit in her current studio. Trying to move something that size from Glurfsburg to Meepville would be an issue, she’d probably have to move to Meepville for the duration of the painting.

What about E.B.? She couldn’t just drag her daughter across the country for a painting, she’s got school. 

What about her current job? What about Guy and Sam? They could come with, their work was flexible, they could probably all stay together. 

“We will, of course, offer a very generous bonus package for the loss of your job as a Bean Counter.” Yes-Man continues. “Travel and accommodations will be provided for you to work at in Meepville, as well as a tutor for your daughter so she can continue her schooling.” 

“... Thank you.” Michellee stands up. She’s pretty sure she’s in shock. 

She looks at Tim, standing next to her with an awestruck look, a bean still held in his hand. “Looks like you just got a promotion.” She smiles. “Congratulations.” 

He gives her a shy smile back. “Thank you. Congratulations to you.” 

There’s no one that she can think deserves the position more. And he’s always been kind to her, it’s nice to have a chance to be kind back. 

Michellee nods, then walks out the door. She’s sure there’ll be contracts to sign and paperwork to fill out, but right now, she really just wants to be away from here. Preferably back home, with a cup of tea.

* * *

When she gets home, Guy and Sam are there, Sam bouncing around like a ping-pong ball, his briefcase open and being stuffed with hats, bread, and other assorted things as he sings something fast and happy that she can’t quite get more than the tune of. Guy’s attempting to follow him, get him calmed down, but it’s not working. 

“What’s going on?” She asks, looking around in confusion. 

“Michellee!” Guy freezes, looking like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t. Sam leaps on his shoulders, hitting a high note, before dashing off again. 

… Even for Sam, that was not normal. 

“We got a lead on where Sam’s mother might be.” Guy finally sighs. He hands her an empty egg carton reading ‘Ma’s Farmhouse’. “In East Flurbia.”

“That’s… _zonks_ away.” Michellee looks up at Guy, who looks as conflicted and resigned as she feels. 

“Yeah.” He agrees tiredly. “I know.” 

He’ll go, because it’s Sam. It’s always Sam for him. 

Just like E.B. will always come first for her.

Really, even if there had been sparks between them, it never would have worked out, because Sam would always come first in Guy’s life. 

The funny thing is how the thought doesn’t hurt. 

“How are you going to get there?” She asks. 

“We’re still trying to figure that out.” Guy grimaces. “In the past Sam would have conned or stolen a vehicle to get from place to place, but that’s not going to work anymore. We have some money, but nowhere near enough to get us there.” 

There’s a chance that she won’t need her car if she and E.B. are heading to Meepville, they could always take that. But then they’d still have to pay for gas. Her car was older and not as efficient as some of the newer ones.

Although there was always a chance that Guy could fix that. 

“Don’t leave until E.B. comes home.” Michellee grabs Guy’s hands. “I know… Sam will probably want to leave right away, but we need to talk and she deserves that much.”

“I know.” He gives her a crooked smile. “That was the plan. We weren’t going to disappear on you.” 

“Oh.” She flushes. 

He cups the side of her face, leaning forward to touch his forehead to hers. She hums, leaning into the contact. It’s safe, grounding. “What brings you home early?” He asks quietly. 

Michellee laughs, then hiccups. “Oh, you would not _believe_ the day-”

The doorbell rings, cutting her off. They pull away just enough to look at the door. “Who could-”

“I got it!” Sam sings, bouncing over to the door and flinging it open. “Hel- _lo_ -!” 

The Yes-Man is standing there, holding the Flerz she just left on the same pillow. “Uh…” Sam stammers. 

“We’re here to see Mr. Guy-Am-I.” The Yes-Man announces, standing at parade rest.

Guy exchanges a look with Michellee, before stepping forward. “That’s me.” He rumbles. 

“The same Guy-Am-I who built a…” The Yes-Man looks down at a piece of paper in his hands. “‘Self-Flyer’-?” 

“The one that exploded while the Goat was flying it, yes.” Guy agrees warily, casually putting a hand on Sam’s shoulders and gently moving the smaller man behind his larger bulk. 

“Marvellous.” The Yes-Man steps inside. “We’ve been trying to track you down since that night.”

“Any particular reason why?” Guy asks so tensely that Michellee almost wants to tell him to relax. 

“I’ll get right to the point.” The Yes-Man and the Flerz look at Guy. “Do you have any more inventions?”

Guy laughs. It’s a wet, almost broken sound. “Lots.” He admits. “None that I can build without them blowing up in my face however.” He adds with a slightly bitter twist to his words. 

His status as an Inventor is a sore spot for him. 

The Flerz makes a chirping noise at the Yes-Man. “Hmm.” The Yes-Man muses. “Do they work if someone else builds them?” 

“So far.” Guy shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve been sending some of my blueprints to one of my nieces. They work just fine for her. Nothing has exploded yet.” 

“Excellent.” The Yes-Man steps closer, making Guy straighten up, look bigger than he was. “We’d like to buy your blueprints. The patents will remain in your name, but if something like the Self-Flyer works, then SnerZco would be very interested in investing in your inventions.”

Guy’s mouth opens, and no sound comes out, he just gawks for a long minute, until Sam tugs on his hand, drawing him out of it and coaxing him into the living room. “Seriously?” Guy finally gasps, sitting down heavily on the sofa. 

“Certainly.” The Yes-Man drawls. “SnerZco is looking to invest in ideas that can help people. We found your name and lists of previous inventions on earlier inquiry boards and think that yours could be quite beneficial.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Guy requests. “We’re kind of in the middle of something right now.” 

“Of course.” The Yes-Man pulls out a large manila envelope and hands it to Guy. “There is a self-addressed self-mailing envelope in there that will go straight to our office. Look over the contracts at your leisure, and please send us your response either way.”

“Of course.” Guy agrees, taking the papers. He doesn’t open them, staring at them with shocked eyes. 

“As far as Mr. Sam-I-Am…” The Yes-Man turns towards Sam, who puts his hands up. 

“Oh, no. I am **out** of the acquisitions gig.” Sam says firmly. “And I’m _not_ looking for another job.” 

“Then it’s a good thing that we’re not looking for an acquisitions expert at the moment.” The Flerz grins and snaps his tiny fingers. The Yes-Man pulls what appears to be a giant bag of bruckles out from his back. “For you. 17,017 bruckles.” 

It’s more than enough to get them to East Flurbia, and more importantly, back again. 

“I…” Sam stares at the bag of money in shock. “What? Why?” 

“That was cost of returning the Chickeraffe to his home, was it not?” The Yes-Man drones as the Flerz looks very smug. “You used your payment from Snerz to free the creature.” 

“Yes, but… I didn’t do it for _payment_.” Sam spits, his body shaking with indignation. Guy reaches out, resting his hand across Sam’s shoulders, thumb rubbing tiny soothing circles against his fur. “Mr. Jenkins was my friend, I wanted to see him returned to his _family_.” 

“Precisely.” The Yes-Man sets the money down on the ground with a heavy thud. “And we hope you will use this to continue said works.”

Sam looks ready to toss it back in their faces until Guy says something quietly in his ear, the fire fading from Sam’s body. Finally Sam nods. “Thank you.” He says, but it doesn’t sound very grateful. 

“We have also purged any record of you working for the previous owner of SnerZco.” The Yes-man informs him. “It’s not much, but we understand you are trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“I am.” Sam nods, and this time it’s softer, less edges. “Thank you.” 

The Flerz smiles back and cheerfully waves it off. “We look forward to hearing from you all in the future.” The Yes-Man says, then bows and walks out of the house, closing the door after him. 

They all stared at each other in silence, too shocked to speak. 

Finally Michellee walks over, sitting down on the couch next to Guy, leaning against him. He puts an arm around her, then holds a hand out to Sam, who joins them, curling up on Guy’s other side. 

It’s nice to be held. Just for a moment, this moment, she’ll take all the comfort she can get. 

“So.” Guy hesitantly clears his throat. “How has your day been going?” He asks awkwardly. 

Michellee laughs, pressing her face against his chest, the soft fur of his ruff brushing against her cheeks. “They want to commission a painting from me.” She says into his fur. “A portrait for the SnerZco headquarters. They want to pay me five times my current annual salary for it. And I get first dibs on any paintings they want. I'll need to go to Meepville to do it.” 

And the thing of it is, she misses Meepville. She loved it there, and she barely had enough time to show E.B. anything there at all. And now she has the chance to show her daughter all the places that both of her parents had loved. 

“Oh my stars.” Sam breathes, which sets her giggling again. 

“We just got all our wishes granted, didn’t we?” She muses. Sam has a way to meet his Mom. Guy can share his inventions in a way things don’t explode. She gets to paint again. And E.B….

Florence runs by, stopping at their feet and looking up at them with a perplexed expression. 

-E.B. got the pet she always wanted. 

Yet somehow it doesn’t feel like the victory it should. Not with them all heading in different directions. 

“Sam, did you-?” Michellee ventures. 

“Hah.” Sam snorts. “I’m good, but I’m not _this_ good.” 

“Hmm.” She’s not so sure about that, but she’s not up for arguing about it either.

* * *

When E.B. comes home, she takes one look at them huddled on the couch and drops her backpack with a careless thud. “What’s wrong?” She demands, voice cracking in alarm. 

“It’s not _bad_ news.” Michellee says, opening her arms. E.B. immediately climbs into her lap, clinging like a limpet. “It’s just… changes.”

“What kind of changes?!” E.B. looks hopefully at Sam and Guy. “I mean… I like the changes thus far. Everyone living together. It’s fun.” 

Sam, thankfully, is the one to respond for her. “That’s part of it.” 

“You’re not moving away, are you?” Her voice cracks in desperation. 

Guy holds a hand up, making a calming gesture. “Sam and I are going on a trip.” He says firmly. “The problem is we don’t know when we’ll be back. It’s a distance away.”

“And I just got a new job.” Michellee grins, although it’s slightly strained on the corners. “In Meepville. As a painter. We’ll be away for at least a few months.” 

“So…” E.B. looks between all of them. “We’re all leaving, but we’re all coming _back_?” 

Michellee blinks, looking at Guy and Sam, who look at her with the same stunned expressions. She’d been so devastated by the fact they were splitting apart that she’d forgotten that it was only temporary. 

They’d be back. And when they did, the house would be there, waiting for them. The perfect size and place for them. 

And if it didn’t fit then, they could find some place that could. The important part was that they had a place to come back to. Stability. 

“Wait right here.” Michellee picks up E.B. and plops her in Guy’s lap, the two blinking in near identical looks of confusion. 

She rushs over to her purse, digging in it for a moment, then opening one of the little side pockets she always forgets about, pulling out a small paper envelope. Michellee opens it as she comes back, pouring the contents into her hand. 

“I made keys for each of us.” Michellee holds them out. She’d gotten a little carried away and made a shiny new key for herself as well, figuring having a spare key around the house wasn’t a bad idea. “I know Sam and E.B. can get in without them, but think of it more like a promise. You have a home to come back to.” 

“Ooh!” E.B. takes a key with more than a bit of enthusiasm. “Shiny!” It was definitely another one of those things that was past due, when it came to trusting her daughter. 

Guy gives her a small smile. “I can break in too.” He comments quietly, an air of teasing to it. “Just in a different way than these two.”

“He’d take the door hinges off.” E.B. interjects. Guy gasps in mock-outrage, the two of them playfully batting at each other. 

She offers the last two to Sam, who was clutching his chest, looking very small and fragile. “Sam?” 

“I…” He swallows and picks up a key from her hand, fingers trembling. “I’m sorry.” He says, staring at the key like it was some sort of mystical talisman. “It’s just…”

“Sam?” Guy asks, his voice a soft rumble as he puts a gentle hand on Sam’s back. 

“I just realised, even if I never find my Mom.” Sam smiles, ear to ear, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, tears gathering on the edges. “I’m _home_.”

“Yes.” Guy agrees, pulling him into a hug. “You are.” 

There’s really nothing else for it, then for Michellee to join in the cuddle pile, E.B. and Florence clamoring in as well. 

They’re home.

* * *

It begins, as the last adventure ended, with a train ride. 

Sam and Guy going one way, to East Flurbia. Michellee and E.B. going the other way, to Meepville. 

E.B. and Michellee have scheduled phone calls with Guy's Mom, and she’s gotten a promise from Guy that he’ll call his mother regularly too. Mom is more than happy to pass along statuses and messages, so they all know what’s going on that they’re all safe. 

Once Michellee and E.B. get a bit more settled in Meepville, she’ll get a phone line there, where Sam and Guy can contact them directly. 

They’re a family, a strange extended one. Being apart doesn’t make them less so. 

There are exciting things to see and do in the meantime, and Michellee can’t wait to see what the future brings.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Something I realised, looking at the technology and music of the show, is that if it was taking place in our timeline, it’d be taking place in the mid-to-late 1960s. (with the Who’s ‘Won’t get fooled again’ being a 1971 outlier)
> 
> Michellee tells Sam she’s been working to be Bean Counter for 11 years, E.B. says she’s 10, both are easily true if she started when she was pregnant. Michellee also stated she moved to Glurfsburg for stability when E.B. was ‘little’, but she’s got a neighbour watching E.B., meaning she most likely either has no family or is estranged from them.  
> Suddenly Michellee's paranoia with E.B. makes so much more sense if it was the conservative 1950s that she arrived in Glurfsburg, no husband and pregnant with all the stigma that comes with that. I pulled on friends and family stories of single mothers in the 40s and 50s and how they were outcast pariahs in their smaller communities. 
> 
> One of the things I wanted to do was touch on Michellee’s anxiety and Guy’s depression, and the fact that by all of them finding each other, neither of them are ‘cured’, but having a steady support network does help with things. 
> 
> I haven’t used oils and non-craft acrylics in years as they’re not my painting mediums of choice, so I may have gotten some details wrong. The paint water/drinking water mix up I think is pretty universal though.
> 
> Yes, the flemur's name was chosen entirely to build up to the Florence + the Machine reference. Welcome to my sense of humour.
> 
> ‘The Storm on the Sea of Giggly’ and subsequent theft is a reference to [The Storm on the Sea of Galilee](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Storm_on_the_Sea_of_Galilee), which was part of the [Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Heist](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isabella_Stewart_Gardner_Museum_theft). (If you’re ever in Boston, you should check it out [I love it there.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BroAdGXntyT/)) 
> 
> Thanks to Tin on the Discord server for Guy's brother's names of 'Dude' and 'Mann'. The discord has been a great inspiration, such as realising that Michellee is a Who (hence the Grinch references) and that Knox (such as Guy's family) probably have litters, given that Guy and his siblings are all about the same age, and the same with the four kids running around the Am-I household.  
> And thanks to Gullwhacker for the beta, working around a sleeping infant in his arms as he did so, as well as watching me flail in chat.  
> And holy shit my dudes, there was a lot of flailing. The fangs on this plot bunny since it was started in Mid-November. in that time, I have gone to Epcot, spent a week and a half in Rome, Italy, spent the past week sleeping due to flu, AND YET THAT WORD COUNT. I’m going back to sleep.  
> [Yeet the child](https://icka-notes.tumblr.com/post/190006832948/theres-nothing-purer-or-better-than-how-much-kids)  
> [Non-spectral colors](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spectral_color#Non-spectral_colors)


End file.
